


Perfect Peter Parker

by lamujerarana



Category: Fantastic Four (Comicverse), Marvel (Comics), Spider-Man (Comicverse)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Fluff and Humor, Identity Reveal, M/M, Mourning, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-06
Updated: 2016-07-19
Packaged: 2018-03-14 17:59:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 159,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3420251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lamujerarana/pseuds/lamujerarana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gwen is dead, Peter's a mess, and Johnny just wants to help.</p><p>Starts with the events of Spider-Man/Human Torch #3. </p><p>***</p><p>"Because you're perfect Peter Parker—"</p><p>"Hey! I am not perfect! You take that back!"</p><p>"—with your perfect hair—"</p><p>"Pretty sure that's <em>you</em>, numbskull, not me."</p><p>"—and perfect smile—"</p><p>"Again, you, not me."</p><p>"—and perfect brain—"</p><p>"Okay, you got me, that's not you. But my brain's not perfect. I mean, I can't even drive, dude."</p><p>"—and now you're <em>Spider-Man</em> too? Aw, man, life is so <em>unfair </em>sometimes!"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Perilous Spidey-Mobile

Peter Parker was dreaming.

A smattering of images.

Soft warm fingers curling around his, rosy lips curved in a perfect smile, wind-swept hair glistening like gold in the sunlight, eyes the color of a bluebird’s wing, a green dress, a pink scarf.

The sound of laughter, bright and tinkling, like the silver wind chimes Aunt May kept on her front porch.

Leaves falling around them as they walked through the park, a shower of brilliant reds and golds.

She was drifting away, afloat on the tides of night, face hidden beneath the golden veils of her hair, shining where it caught the final glimmers of the sun's crimson rays. 

He watched as she vanished slowly into the surrounding darkness.

She was gone, and he was alone, desolate, in the dark.

Out of the black velvet void that imprisoned him emerged a battered old bridge, a roiling sea, the sound of maniacal laughter.

She was falling, falling, into the sea, into the blackness, into the void, where Peter couldn’t follow.

He stretched out his hand, tips of his fingers brushing hers as she reached back towards him, eyes pleading and full of terror.

He could save her this time, he knew it, she didn’t have to die, he wouldn’t let her, not again, not again, no, no, no, no, _no!_

“Peter!” a woman’s voice called from the distance, and someone was shaking his shoulders roughly. “Peter, wake up!”

Peter jolted awake.

Mary Jane Watson was standing over him, a worried look in her emerald eyes, hands clutching his shoulders, hair a curtain of crimson fire where it caught a ray of light from the shuttered blinds. “Are you okay?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Peter said, voice rough and raspy. He scrubbed his hands over his face wearily and was surprised to discover they were trembling, his heart racing. He was drenched in sweat, as were the sheets that surrounded him. He tried desperately to collect himself—he didn’t want MJ to know how badly shaken up he still was over Gwen, despite the fact that she had died many endless months ago. Judging by the concerned expression on her face, he was not succeeding. “It was just a dream," he whispered, more to himself than to MJ. "That’s all it was. A dream.” 

It _was_ a dream, but it was rooted in memory. Of brighter days, and of the darkest, whose shadow he had yet to escape.

He collapsed backwards onto the bed, staring sightlessly up at the ceiling.

He'd woken mere moments ago, but he already felt an unsettling weariness deep down in his bones. He would've thought he'd be used to it by now. It was a constant part of his reality—he was perpetually exhausted, detached, disinterested. A thick pane of glass seemed to separate him from the smiling faces around him.

He flinched at the sudden burst of light that flooded the room when MJ opened the blinds. Because she was in his bedroom. MJ was in his bedroom. Peter tried in vain to wrap his mind around that. It was, as far as he knew, fairly unprecedented, except for that time he’d had the flu—a not infrequent occurrence given how thin his Spider-suit was, and how cold it got in New York at night—and she’d helped Gwen look after him while Gwen was in class. “MJ, don’t take this the wrong way, but why are you here? I mean, in my bedroom?”

“Oh,” MJ said. She held up a small bronze key Peter recognized instantly, given that it was the key to his apartment. “Harry gave me a key to your place," she explained. "I never had the chance to give it back after we broke up. I was here looking for him. I heard you shouting, so I let myself in.” She stuck her hands in the pockets of her dark green coat and glanced awkwardly down at the ground.

“Harry’s not here,” Peter ventured. “He’s been gone a lot lately. He’s been having a rough time since his dad’s death.”

 _I’m worried about him_ , Peter wanted to say. _Worried that Harry’s using drugs again. Using the drugs that make him…not Harry._

MJ understood it all anyways. “Yeah,” she said grimly, “I noticed.” She looked up at Peter, eyebrows raised. She cocked her head to one side. “He’s not the only one who’s having a rough time, Tiger.”

“I’m fine, MJ,” Peter said automatically.

“Oh?” she said, clearly not believing him. “I suppose that’s why you were just asleep. In the middle of the afternoon.”

“Oh _shit_!” Peter exclaimed, jolting up, bed creaking loudly as he did. “What time is it? ...and day, while we're at it?”

“Five. On Wednesday. You missed Professor Warren’s class. Again.” Peter groaned loudly and buried his face in his hands. “Yep, that’d be the one. The one you signed up for months ago, and haven't gone to once."

"I _know_!" Peter shouted, yanking his hands away from his face. He'd meant to go to class today, really he had. He'd just...lost track of what time it was...and what day. 

"You promised Professor Warren you’d start going, Tiger. He isn’t very happy with you.”

“I _know_ , MJ!” Peter snapped. “I know that!”

MJ sank down onto the bed next to Peter with a quiet sigh. “You know, if you need to talk to someone, you can always talk to me,” she said, reaching out to squeeze his knee affectionately, thumb drawing circles over his threadbare blue sheets. “You’re my friend, and I’m worried about you.”

Peter stared down at MJ’s hand. Its weight was grounding, reassuring. He wanted to talk about the confusing mixture of emotions he felt about Gwen’s death and the circumstances surrounding it. But that would mean telling MJ about his secret identity, and he couldn’t put her in danger like that. Not after Gwen.

So he was very surprised to hear himself saying very quietly, “I just feel so alone without her.”

MJ's hand tightened around his knee. “Tiger, you aren’t alone. You’ve never been alone. You’ve got me, and your Aunt May, and Harry, when he’s himself, and even Flash, really, for all that he teases you. You aren’t alone.”

“It’s not the same. As having someone you belong to. It isn’t the same."

MJ sucked in a deep breath. “No, I guess it isn’t. But it still doesn’t mean you’re alone. I hope someday you realize that.”

Peter wrenched his eyes away from MJ’s much too incisive gaze. He reached out and grabbed the picture of Gwen he kept on his nightstand. It was his most treasured photo of her—he’d taken it on their first date. It marked a joyous beginning; here he was, now, after its bloody end, struggling to keep hold of memories of brighter days.

Everything about Gwen had been a sweet rosy pink that day. Everything from her pink-and-white striped headband, the same one she would wear later, on the night Peter first told her he loved her; to her nails, which felt smooth against the skin of his hand as he walked her home; to her pink lip gloss, which left the lingering taste of strawberries on Peter's lips as he sauntered off to his and Harry's apartment, feeling as though he was walking on air.

When his eyes traced over the lines of his own face in the photo, took in the twinkling eyes, the bright grin, the glow of happiness, nothing seemed familiar. It might as well have been a stranger's face.

The face that stared back at him every morning out of the shattered mirror in his bathroom was weary and pale and drawn, eyes dead, mouth tight. Not a glimmer of that old joy left.

It was the face MJ was looking at now. It explained why she didn’t believe him when he said he was fine. The misery he felt was written far too plainly on his face.

“Used to be,” he mused as he stared longingly at Gwen's beloved face, “whenever I imagined the future, I would always see Gwen there. No matter how uncertain everything else was, I always knew Gwen would be a part of it. That was just a fact for me. The sky is blue, the grass is green, and I'm gonna be with Gwen till the day I die. Even when we broke up, I couldn’t believe everything was really over between us. And it wasn’t. She and I were meant to be together. She knew it just as well as I did. But now everything really is over.” He caressed the smooth glass that covered Gwen's smiling face in the photo. “And I don’t know what to do with that. I feel _lost_ , MJ. I don't know who I am anymore, or what the future's going to be like. I just know I'm not looking forward to it. There's _nothing_ to look forward to anymore, now that Gwen's gone. I wake up in the mornings and I just feel so _tired_. Of everything."

MJ bit her lip. "I wish I knew what to say to help you, Tiger. There aren’t any easy answers to any of this. I know how you feel, if that helps. Don't forget—you're not the only one who lost someone you loved that day. You lost your girlfriend, but I lost my best friend. And you're right, things are different now without her. _We're_ different, and nothing will ever be the same again. But...that's okay.”

"Gwen's dead," Peter said despairingly. " _Nothing's_ okay anymore."

MJ was quiet for a long while. Then she sighed, rubbed her eye, and said, businesslike, “We need to cheer you up. Clearly. And step number one to cheering you up? Getting you out of this stuffy little dungeon you call home. C’mon, Tiger, get dressed. We’re going out, and we're having fun.”

“MJ, I really don’t feel like—“

MJ raised a finger to silence him. Peter's mouth automatically snapped shut. “Uh-uh," she said. "No arguments. You’re coming with me. It’s not like you have anything else to do. Apart from," she flicked her hand at him, "sitting in the dark and brooding all the time.”

“I was _sleeping_ ,” Peter protested. “Not brooding.”

“Uh-huh. In the middle of the afternoon. That's a good sign.”

“I was up late!" Peter said defensively.

"Doing what, exactly? It wasn't homework, because you don't go to class, and it wasn't work, because even JJJ doesn't make you work in the middle of the night. So, what kept you up all night? And don't even _think_ about lying, Tiger."

"I...go out and...walk at night. It’s so quiet then. I like it.” Peter had been out patrolling all night, and admittedly there may have been some brooding while he was staking out some drug runners, but, hey, MJ didn’t need to know that.

“Alone. At night. Yeah, that sounds healthy. What you need is to be around people, Tiger. Remind you that the world's still gone on like normal without Gwen.”

“I always just feel like they’re staring at me. Like they all know I’m the guy whose girlfriend got murdered.”

“Well, that's just paranoid. It's not like you wear a giant sign on your forehead. C’mon," she wheedled. "It’ll be like old times.”

“No, it won’t. Gwen won’t be there. And neither will Harry.”

“Do you think Gwen would want you doing this to yourself, Tiger? She’d want you to be happy.”

“Without her? Impossible.”

“You’re wrong about that, Pete. You’ll realize that someday. You’ll meet somebody new. You’ll see.”

“No,” Peter insisted. “Gwen was it for me. There won’t be anyone else. Not ever.”

“Yes, there will. You’re nineteen years old. Gwen is not the last woman you’re going to fall in love with. There’ll be more.”

Peter shrugged, seeming very unconvinced.

"So," MJ said, reaching over, grabbing his hand, and trying to yank him out of bed, "get up, and let's go."

“Fine,” Peter said, letting her pull him up. “I’ll go. But I don’t promise to enjoy myself.”

“Good enough for me,” MJ said with a smile. She wrinkled her nose as he stood. “And for god’s sake, _shower_. You smell like a sewer.”

That was probably exactly what Peter smelled like. He’d gotten thrown into one last night after a particularly brutal fight with the Molten Man. He rolled his eyes. “Yes, MJ,” he said, and obediently went to take a shower.

It really did make him feel better.

* * *

Mary Jane took Peter for a walk around the streets of New York. She'd been shocked at how...unlike himself Peter seemed.

Typically, there was more laughing and one abysmal pun after another that Peter found hilarious, even though absolutely no one else did.

Peter hadn't made a single joke the entire time they'd been walking. Or smiled. Or laughed. Not even when she pointed out a guy with toilet paper stuck to his shoe. Peter normally would've laughed for hours over that.

It was  _really_ weirding her out. Also, she found it... _so_ depressing to see how completely shut down and  _vacant_ he seemed.

MJ tried her best to get him to laugh, or even smile, at this point, she would even take a smile, but...nothing. Oh boy. He was worse off than she'd assumed. She could've kicked herself for not having thought to go check on him sooner. She'd thought he'd need some space to recover. And she'd been too upset over Gwen's death herself. She had shed many many tears over the last few months because she'd lost her friend. And her boyfriend.

And now her other close friend was falling to pieces, and MJ would be damned if she lost someone else she cared about without putting up one _hell_ of a fight. 

She'd thrown herself into her classes with renewed vigor since Gwen's death, trying desperately to get her mind off of her troubles. She'd mostly succeeded. Peter, however, seemed to be more lost than ever.

"We should go eat, Tiger," she suggested. "You look like you haven't eaten in a week."

He was much thinner and paler than she'd remembered. Worryingly so.

Peter frowned. "I can't remember the last time I ate. So you might be right."

"Tiger, you really need to start taking better care of yourself. What happened to Gwen is not your fault. No need for you to take it out on yourself."

"No," Peter said evasively, and MJ could just tell there was some secret he was holding back. "Of course not. That's not what I'm doing at all."

She wanted to ask what, but also didn't want to pry. "You can talk to me, you know."

"What makes you say that?" Peter said.

She shrugged, but didn't press further. If Peter wanted her to know, he'd tell her. "So, dinner? Or, I guess, breakfast for you."

"I don't know," Peter said ambivalently.

MJ shot him a look. "We've been over this. The brooding needs to stop," she said dryly. 

"I like to think of it as intense thinking more than brooding," Peter informed her.

"Yeah," she snorted. "I'm sure you do. We're definitely eating."

* * *

"So I was talking to Professor Warren the other day," MJ ventured as she was idly scratching lines with her fork across her napkin while they waited for their burgers.

"Mm-hmm," Peter said, only half listening, busy distractedly tearing his straw's wrapper into shreds.

"He said he could get you an internship at the Baxter Building, if you wanted it. With Reed Richards. Although you'd have to start going to class, of course."

That caught Peter's attention. "Reed Richards? As in Mr. Fantastic?"

"No, the _other_ Reed Richards."

Peter frowned slightly, confused.

"Sarcasm," MJ said, sipping at her coke.

"Oh," Peter said.

"All you would need to do is fill out an application and go to an interview with Professor Richards, and you'll get it for sure. If you're interested, talk to Professor Warren."

Peter sat back in his chair. Working with Reed Richards would be a truly fantastic opportunity for him. He'd always admired Reed, as a scientist, as a superhero, and as a person. Reed had always been a bit of a role model for him, really. The chance to work side-by-side with him out of costume? A dream come true for Peter. 

And then there was the fact that working in the Baxter Building would mean more chances to talk to Johnny Storm, which Peter'd been looking for an excuse to do for weeks, ever since Johnny'd helped him build his Spider-Mobile. 

It was there, hanging around in Johnny's cluttered garage, trading insults with Johnny, that something unimaginable had happened. Something he hadn't even thought himself capable of anymore.

He'd laughed. Not a fake laugh, or a forced one, but a real, genuine bark of laughter.

He'd stared at Johnny, shocked, as Johnny kept chattering on cheerfully, entirely oblivious to the fact that something impossible had just happened.

No one else had managed to make him do that. It had been  _months_  since Gwen died, and no one, not MJ, not Aunt May, not Flash,  _no one_  had been able to get even the tiniest smile out of him.

He hadn't even thought he was  _capable_  of that anymore.

But Johnny, somehow, had managed it. He'd helped him to laugh again,  _really_  laugh, for the first time in  _months_.

Peter'd been trying to think up an excuse to go back and talk to Johnny since then, one that wouldn't sound entirely unbelievable, but he hadn't managed to come up with anything.

And here was MJ, offering him the perfect opportunity. Maybe the universe had finally decided to cut him some slack. Maybe now, finally, finally, things would start going his way.

"Yeah," he told MJ, "Thanks! Could you tell Professor Warren I said yes?"

MJ smiled happily at him. "Of course, Pete! Happy to!"

Peter smiled back, and it was even genuine.

* * *

Peter stood atop the bridge that haunted his dreams night after night, wind ripping through his hair, mask twisting in his hands.

"Now that you're gone," he confessed to the open air, talking to Gwen, and hoping against hope that somehow she could hear him, "nothing's funny anymore, and I need it to be."

In the weeks after Gwen's death, Peter'd watched every funny movie he'd ever loved, desperate to hear himself laugh again. Not the slightest trace of a smile had wound its way to his face. He'd been convinced, until that day in Johnny's garage, that his ability to laugh had died the day Gwen did. Vanished into the air along with her soul.

"Yeah," he continued, "I know it's the stupidest thing in the world. But when I'm around Johnny Storm, I can hear myself cracking wise again. And for the first time in a long time, it doesn't feel like I'm putting on an act, or going through the motions. Suddenly I'm Spidey again. No, I'm Peter again. _Your_ Peter."

Being around Johnny made him feel like himself again. As though there were perhaps some sort of tenuous continuity between the weary, humorless Peter of today and the carefree, jovial Peter of yesterday. 

So when he swung away from the battered old bridge, heading for his new internship with Reed Richards, he did so with the hope that he'd manage to get closer to Johnny, perhaps even befriend him as Peter Parker.

* * *

Johnny'd kept a picture of his girlfriend Crystal on his nightstand in the weeks following their break-up. He'd kept it there until one morning Sue had caught him talking to it as though it were really Crystal. She'd wrapped him in a hug so tight he could hardly breathe, and when she'd pulled away, her eyes had been bright with unshed tears. 

Johnny'd felt like dirt after that. He hated seeing that look on his sister's face, and he hated even more being the one who put it there. 

But he couldn't stop talking to Crystal, not yet, at least. So he'd moved her picture down to his garage, knowing that Sue hardly ever went down there. She said her clothes always carried the lingering smell of grease and oil the rest of the day. 

He'd put Crystal's picture in an old locker only he knew the combination to, and talked to her whenever he felt sad, or depressed, or just missed her. 

It was more often than he'd care to admit, because the truth of the matter was that Johnny was lonely. He couldn't talk to his family about what he was going through—he didn't want Sue to worry. She had more than enough to worry about already. And if he told Reed or Ben, those blabbermouths would tell Sue in two seconds flat.

And then they'd all start treating him like he was made out of glass again, like they had in the days following Crystal's departure.

Man, but Johnny hated that. 

There wasn't really anyone outside of his family that he trusted enough to talk to about Crystal. Well, maybe Spidey. Hanging out with him last week had been fun. Johnny'd jumped on the chance to help him build his Spider-Mobile—which was a _terrible_ name, as he'd told Spidey repeatedly—partly because he knew it meant he'd have something to distract him, but mostly because it meant he'd get to hang with Spidey more often. 

Spidey'd seemed a bit down in the dumps at first, but that old Storm charm had worked wonders. Johnny'd had him laughing his ass off in minutes. It'd been great. He liked making Spidey laugh.

That was, honestly, the most fun he'd had since Crystal left.

He kinda wished there was a way to get in touch with the Ol' Webhead and ask him to hang out.

That'd be nice.

* * *

Johnny'd found a pleasant surprise walking past his garage.

Nina, who was, apparently, Reed's new intern. Sure, she was kinda givin' him the cold shoulder, but she was total eye candy.

So when Reed showed up and said, "I want to introduce you to my _other_ college intern," Johnny was thrilled.

The intern Johnny'd already met was _gorgeous_. Johnny could only hope the second one was as well.

Perhaps he'd misjudged Reed after all.

A part of him kind of suspected Reed might be doing this on purpose to try to fix him up. What were the odds Reed would hire a stunningly beautiful intern right when he was in need of a new girl? "Another intern?" he said excitedly. "You've been holding out on me, Reed. Man, if she's anything like Ms. Hot-to-Trotsky here..."

"Sorry, Johnny," Reed answered. "This one's a 'he.' In fact...I believe you two already know each other."

Johnny's eyes widened as he saw Peter Parker, that cute photographer from the _Daily Bugle,_ walk in _._ Perfect Peter Parker, with his perfect hair and perfect smile, beautiful girls always hanging off his arm, and who was, to top it all off, according to Reed, _really damn smart_. And Nina seemed to fawn all over him, while she pretended Johnny didn't even exist.

Man, life was totally unfair sometimes.

Especially when Nina shot him down...right in front of Parker. Twice. And goddammit, Parker looked like he was trying hard not to laugh both times.

Damn him.

If being a scientist meant you got to have totally hot interns like Nina and Parker hanging around all the time...Johnny could see the appeal.

* * *

Having given up on getting that cute new intern to say yes to a date with him, Johnny decided to head back to his garage, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his overalls.

He stopped mid-stride when he heard someone calling, "Hey, Johnny! Wait up!"

He turned to find, much to his surprise, that it was perfect Peter Parker. What the hell did he want? To make fun of him over the Nina thing?

"Yeah, Parker?" he said with an air of impatience, trying to be as standoffish as possible. "What's up?"

Parker seemed tongue-tied. "Ah," he said awkwardly. "I, uh," he rubbed the back of his neck nervously, "just wanted to know if you maybe wanted to hang out with me sometime. Like drinks? No, wait, I'm not old enough to drink. And neither are you, of course, you're younger than me. Uh, coffee, or something?"

Johnny clenched his hands, hidden as they were in his pockets. How did Parker know? That was _not_ a good sign. "Parker, hate to break it to you, but I'm both out of your league and don't play for your team, if you catch my drift."

"What?" Parker asked, confused. 

"You're asking me out on a date. I'm telling you I'm not gay." Well, he wasn't, technically. Parker didn't need the details. He did work for a newspaper, after all, and Johnny and his sexual orientation were newsworthy. 

And Johnny _so_ didn't feel like dealing with annoying newspapers and their horrifyingly backwards gender politics.

Parker's eyes widened in horror at Johnny's misunderstanding. "No! No. I wasn't—I wasn't asking you on a date. I realize now that that's what it sounded like, but...no. I am _not_ gay, not that there's anything wrong with being gay, it's just that I happen to not be. I wanted to be friends. That's it. I swear."

"Oh," Johnny said, hands loosening in his pockets. He felt a wave of relief wash over him, cool and refreshing. So Parker _didn't_  know. "Sorry. Okay then. I, uh..." He squinted. "Friends, huh?"

"Yeah. Friends. If you...if you want, I mean. I'm going to be around a lot, because of this internship, and I thought...we might get along. So. Friends?"

Johnny's eyes slid off to the side as he looked away pensively before flashing his best movie-star grin at Parker and saying, "Yeah, okay, Parker. You're on. Friends. Friday night, maybe?"

Parker smiled back. "Yeah. Okay," he said, sounding very pleased.

"See ya then, kid," Johnny called over his shoulder as he walked away, shoes clacking loudly against the hard white tiles.

He resisted the urge to turn and see if Parker was watching him. Until he reached the corner, that is. He glanced over as discreetly as he could. Parker was standing there, watching him. Hadn't moved since Johnny'd left.

Johnny gave him a little wave and smile, and Parker waved back.

Once he was out of sight, Johnny allowed himself to smile happily for the briefest of moments.

* * *

Johnny was busily trying to fix up his hot rod's engine, and griping about how Nina had blithely ignored him and trying to figure out how he felt about how Parker had laughed at him and then maybe asked him out.

Nina was a brainy girl. Like Parker. Johnny was just a dumb grease monkey at heart, for all his pretensions of being a superhero. He'd never be good enough for someone that smart.

"Face it," he said to himself, looking wistfully at Crystal's picture. "She just wasn't the right girl. Hmm. Long-distance relationships. They never do work, do they, Crystal?"

He heard a quick rapping sound at the window. "Open up!" he heard someone say. "It's me! Your friendly neighborhood pedestrian!"

"Oh, what now?" Johnny snapped, annoyed at being caught talking to Crystal again.

He walked over to find Spidey hanging in the window.

"Hey, Matchstick," Spidey said cheerfully. "How 'bout that driving lesson you've been promising?"

"Well..." Johnny said ambivalently. He didn't know if he was up for Spidey-shenanigans right now. Spidey had a habit of dragging him into trouble. Wherever he went, trouble always followed. Johnny sometimes wondered if it was like that in his normal, day-to-day life too, or if it just happened when he put on the suit.

He knew he'd probably never find out. He'd thought about it for a long time before realizing he was okay with that. He trusted Spidey—what his face looked like, what his name was, none of it really mattered. He knew who Spidey really was. He'd seen everything he needed to know about Spidey in his actions, heard it all in his voice. Spidey was a hero, and he was Johnny's pal. Nothing else mattered.

It had taken Spidey a while, but eventually he'd earned Johnny's unwavering trust and loyalty. Johnny didn't give it lightly, but once he did, he rarely ever took it back.

"It'll be fun!" Spidey wheedled. "C'mon. I'll be your best friend."

"You kind of already are," Johnny wanted to say. Instead he grinned brightly and grabbed the keys to the Spider-Mobile. "Aw, how can I say no to that mask?"

This would get his mind off of his troubles. Off of Crystal, Nina's cold shoulder, and perfect Peter Parker and his cute smile.

* * *

Peter'd suspected Johnny might be in need of cheering up after Nina'd...kind of cruelly shot him down.

It had been a bit brutal to watch.

Admittedly, he mostly knocked on Johnny's window for selfish reasons. He was desperate to blow off some steam and forget his troubles.

And maybe feel like himself again for five minutes. He was starting to find it addictive, the way he felt about himself when Johnny was around.

But really, if he was being honest with himself, he supposed he'd knocked on Johnny's window because he needed a friend.

* * *

It happened. The day Sue had always told him would happen someday.

Johnny was regretting making a rash decision.

The rash decision in question? Getting into a car with Spider-Man.

Jesus. His driving skills were enough to make Johnny agree with J. Jonah Jameson. Spidey _was_ a menace—when he was behind the wheel of a car, at least.

He'd run _three_ cars off the road. _Three._ They'd been driving like five minutes. How the hell was that even _possible_? Johnny was legitimately curious. But that was Spidey. Amazingly good at getting into trouble.

Spidey was, by _far_ , the worst driver Johnny'd ever had the misfortune of seeing.

Johnny drove _race cars_ , for god's sake, and Spidey's driving was almost giving him a heart attack. _  
_

Worse yet, Spidey was acting like he was having the time of his life. Even squeeing when they went _much too fast_ on busy New York streets.

Spidey didn't seem to care.

"I'm being serious here," Johnny shouted at Spidey. "A car is _not_ a toy!"

"Um...You have seen what we're riding in, right?" Spidey said dryly. The Spidey-Mobile was red and blue and covered in Spidey's web design. So yeah, it was a bit...whimsical, but so what? A car was a car!

"Listen," Johnny snapped, "driving isn't a right, it's a privilege, and—" He stopped in horror as he heard himself, and realized who he sounded like. _Sue_. "Oh _man_ , what just _happened_? You made me channel my sister! I'm never gonna forgive you for—LOOK OUT!" he screeched, throwing his arms up in horror as Spidey nearly ran over some cops.

"Um..." Spidey said as the police gestured for them to stop. "This might not be the best time to tell you, but..."

Johnny's head whipped over as he glared at Spidey. "But _what_?" he snapped, dreading to hear the answer.

"I don't have a license," Spidey said sheepishly.

Johnny rolled his eyes. "Great," he said, exasperated. Of _course_ he didn't. Because that's what sane, rational people did. Not people who drove like maniacs. Actually. Given how Spidey'd been driving...that kind of explained a _lot._

"And I'm wanted for murder."

Johnny fought the urge to groan. Of _course_ he was. Johnny didn't even _want_ to ask why. He knew Spidey hadn't done it, of course, but still. The story was probably ridiculous, and totally infuriating. Like everything Spidey did. "Anything else?" he asked testily. God, he hoped not.

"I think I'm pregnant."

"Stop it!" he snapped. He desperately fought off the urge to slam his face into the dash repeatedly. Good god. Sometimes Spidey was the _worst_. How the hell did he even get himself into these scrapes? And why, oh why, did Johnny always let himself get dragged in after him?

* * *

The police who stopped them had wanted help catching Stilt-Man.

Johnny was currently upset because he and Spidey, two big bad superheroes, had let Stilt-Man get away. _Stilt_ - _Man,_ of all people.

That was _mortifying_.

Why had he gotten away?

 _Spidey couldn't parallel park_.

Johnny'd been just about to leap out of the car and fly after the guy when Spidey'd pleaded, "Johnny! Don't go!"

"Why not?" Johnny'd asked, bewildered.

"'Cause I've never parallel parked before!" Spidey'd said plaintively. "You have to show me what to do!"

"Oh for the love of—" Yep, that settled it. Johnny was gonna kill Spidey. Reed would probably have a clever way to get rid of the body, right? Like dumping it in a black hole, or something? "Stop! Straighten out! Now turn the—what are you _doing_?!"

"You're really stressing me out here, Storm. Okay?" Spidey'd said, sounding very upset.

Johnny had collapsed back in the seat. And buried his head in his hands. He had to steel himself not to begin to cry out of sheer frustration.

Spidey was the _worst_.

* * *

They gave up after that. Luckily, Daredevil caught the baddie.

They stopped at a convenience store on Yancy Street and bought fruit pies and slurpees instead. Well, Johnny bought them. To apologize for losing his temper while Spidey was parking.

"Look, I'm sorry I yelled at you," Johnny said contritely. "Here, this's on me."

"What can I say?" Spidey said, munching on a fruit pie. "With the spider-sense comes a little spider-sensitivity."

"Yeah, and no taste," Johnny shot back. "What's with you and those fruit pies?"

Spidey'd better hope Sue never caught wind of him eating those. He'd get an earful about healthy eating, and how it was your responsibility to take care of yourself, blah, blah, blah. Johnny usually tuned out at that point.

* * *

Spidey'd then somehow managed to talk Johnny into helping him upgrade the engine by adding Reed's gravity localizer. So that the car could drive on walls.

That was a _terrible_ idea. Johnny knew it was...but Spidey'd talked him into it anyways.

Johnny...really didn't know how it'd happened. He was beginning to discover that he had a bit of difficulty saying no to Spidey.

That was worrying. Spidey seemed to have an uncanny knack for dragging Johnny into trouble. And Johnny, like the idiot he was, would bumble along after him.

Not without making a show of how terribly annoyed and entirely put-upon he was, of course. He had to do that, out of a sense of self-preservation. Because god help him if Spidey ever figured out exactly how completely wrapped around his little finger Johnny was.

* * *

Back at the garage, while they were tinkering with the engine, they inevitably began chatting. At first the conversation was casual, impersonal, their typical bantering back-and-forth, but the tone quickly shifted when Johnny began talking about Crystal.

He didn't know why he'd begun to talk to Spidey about this. Yeah, they were pals, but they weren't yet at the share-all-your-troubles-and-cry-on-each-others'-shoulders stage of their friendship. Although if the tight feeling in Johnny's throat was any indication, they were rapidly approaching it.

Johnny'd been devastated when Crystal left. He'd honestly thought she might be the girl of his dreams. He'd been happier with her than he'd ever been.

But he couldn't talk about that with Sue or anyone. They didn't ever understand. Spidey, though, the way he talked, he got it. What it was like to lose someone you cared about like that.

"The love of my life," Johnny said gloomily, distracting himself from the lump in his throat by focusing on fixing the motor, "and I'll probably never see her again."

He wasn't feeling sorry for himself, he kept telling himself. He wasn't. He promised that he'd stop. That he'd get over this.

"Yeah," Spidey said. "But you could, if you really wanted to. You could chuck all of this and go live in her world. You could be with her, Johnny. Where my girl's gone?" His hands suddenly stilled, his shoulders sagged. "I—I can't follow."

Johnny squinted at him, trying to decipher what he could possible mean. "Ha," he responded, trying to lighten the mood. "Yeah? Where's that? The planet of the arachnophobes?"

Spidey didn't say anything for awhile. "No," he said at last, in what was barely a whisper. "She's dead."

Johnny went very still, keeping silent for a long while as the full weight of Spidey's confession sunk in. That was...heavy stuff. And Spidey seemed so...young. Certainly no older than Johnny.

Losing Crystal the way he had was hard enough. But the knowledge that she was happy and safe was a comfort at the very least. He could hope that maybe someday she'd come back.

He could hardly imagine what it'd be like to know she was _dead_. There was a terrifying finality to that.

So he struggled to find the words to convey how very sorry he was that Spidey'd had to deal with that. Alone, probably. While being derided as a menace and a murderer and a freak by the entire city.

Jesus.

"I'm sorry," he settled on at last. It was pitiful, it was useless, he knew, but he didn't know what else to say. "You okay?"

"Honestly? I'm not sure," Spidey admitted, voice so quiet it was practically a whisper. "It was just a few months ago. Someone killed her because of me. Because I'm Spider-Man. And now—I don't know what to do anymore."

The grief and despair in Spidey's voice was like a tangible presence in the room. Johnny felt an abrupt urge to hug him and tell him everything would be alright. But he wasn't sure that was true. Sometimes when you lost someone so important to you, things were never really alright again. Not the same way, at least.

Things had never been the same for Johnny after his mother died in a car accident and his father tore himself to pieces over the guilt and despair he'd felt when he'd been unable to save her on the operating table. And then Sue had left for Hollywood not long after, and Johnny had been really and truly alone, the people he cared about most all gone. 

So instead, Johnny said, "Maybe you should take a break. Put away the webs for awhile. There's no rule that you have to be a superhero 24/7. Look at my sister, Sue. Right now she's taking some time off from the FF..."

"No," Spidey said, cutting him off, voice hard and certain. "I can't stop. Ever. When you guys skip a day, a new planet doesn't get discovered. But if I do it someone gets mugged, or hurt, or worse. One time I failed to act. One time. And someone died. A man who was like a father to me. This time, I did everything. And she still died. So what do I do, Johnny? How can I keep on doing this?"

Spidey sounded so lost. Wounded. And with his shoulders hunched forwards as he leaned against the Spidey-Mobile, he looked so heartbreakingly young and frail.

That was quite a burden Spidey'd decided to take upon himself, Johnny thought. The well-being of an entire city. And it conveniently allowed Spidey to blame himself every time anything bad happened to anyone, anywhere in the city.

Well, that explained a lot. Johnny abruptly felt that he understood Spidey more clearly than he ever had before. The jokes, the clowning...they were all defense mechanisms Spidey used to keep himself from going insane from the sheer pressure he was under daily.

And now Spidey was asking _him_ for advice. Like he had the slightest clue what he was doing. Or any kind of wisdom to impart. "I don't know, pal," he said. "I don't. I wish I could help, but—"

"Hey. You _are_ helping," Spidey said. How, Johnny wondered, did this suddenly turn into Spidey comforting him? "See, when this mask comes off...I can't tell my normal friends any of this stuff. But you? Well...you're the only super friend I've got. If that's okay?"

That sounded... _lonely_. Johnny always had Sue to turn to when he needed to talk, or some kind of reassurance. And Ben. And even Reed, if he could be dragged away from his laboratory long enough.

Spidey sounded like he didn't have anyone. He needed someone to turn to. Everyone did. If he wanted that person to be Johnny, well, Johnny was honored. Flattered. Pleased. "Well... yeah. Sure. We can talk like this whenever, y'know? You're _always_ welcome here."

Spidey turned to stare at him after that, face unreadable beneath that mask. Johnny wished for the forty-millionth time that he could see the face beneath it. He smiled warmly at Spidey, trying to convey to him that here, at least, he was well-liked and wanted.

Spidey kept staring at him. Almost as though he was considering something. Johnny tore his eyes away. He could feel Spidey's eyes boring into the top of his head as his fingers flew over the engine, and blushed a delicate shade of pink beneath the scrutiny.

Spidey dropped the wrench he'd been using and took a deep breath. "Johnny?"

"Yeah, Spidey?"

"I think...I think I want you to know my secret identity. If that's okay."

Oh. That was...not what Johnny'd been expecting.

Johnny's eyes flicked up, surprise evident in his glance. His heart leapt at the possibility, but he quickly clamped down on the feeling. This wasn't about what _he_ wanted, it was about what Spidey _needed_. A friend. Someone to look out for him, and who would always have his back, no matter what.

He released the breath he hadn't quite realized he'd been holding in. "You don't have to do that if you don't want to, you know. It's okay."

"Do you not want to know?" Spidey said, tilting his head in that familiar way.

It's not that Johnny didn't want to know. He did. He'd wondered for years who Spidey was beneath that mask. Sometimes Spidey would say things or move in a way that reminded him of someone, but he could never quite place who it was.

"Of _course_ I want to know," Johnny said dryly. "But I don't want you to feel that you have to do anything you don't want. You'll be welcome here either way. I'll still talk to you, even though I don't know what you look like under there. And if I do find out, and you're like totally hideous, if you like look like a spider or something under there, I will also still talk to you. I talk to Ben, don't I?"

"You think I look like a spider? I don't look like a spider. Does everyone think that?"

Johnny shrugged. "I don't think people think about it that much."

"But you have?" Spidey said.

"Not like a lot. But I have wondered," Johnny admitted. He smiled nervously, and said lightly, "I think we're both missing the real question here, though. Am I hotter than you? That's what really matters."

"Johnny," Spidey said flatly, "I think everyone would agree that you're the hottest guy on the planet."

"Yeah," Johnny said, preening and very flattered. "I know."

"I meant because you light on fire, Flamebrain."

Johnny's face fell. "Oh." He was legitimately kind of disappointed by that. "Well, am I right or am I right about being hotter than you, face-wise?"

Spidey reached up to his mask. "You're about to find out," he said, sounding determined.

Johnny was gripping the edge of the car tightly, heart pounding loudly in his ears. Oh my god, this was it! He was about to meet the real Spidey. Johnny knew how closely Spidey guarded the secret of his true identity. From the sound of it, absolutely no one, other than Johnny, knew it. Was about to know it? Whatever. This meant Spidey liked and trusted him completely. More than anybody else in the world. This was...special. Before he could help himself, Johnny blurted out, "I feel like a kid about to unwrap a birthday present."

Spidey's hands froze, and then he lowered them. "Yeah," he said slowly, as though he were talking to a small child. "Except that, unlike birthday presents, I'm not gonna belong to you after this."

Johnny scowled. "I know that. I'm not an idiot, Webhead."

"Well, that's debatable, Hothead."

"If you're gonna do it," Johnny said impatiently, "do it. The suspense is killing me."

Spidey tore off his mask.

Johnny's mouth fell open. Well, he definitely knew that face. And suddenly so many things clicked into place. "Peter _Parker_?!" he screeched, voice growing embarrassingly higher-pitched on the final word. " _You're_ Spidey? Oh my god! You have _got_ to be kidding me!"

"What?" Parker asked, confused, not sure whether or not he should be offended. "Why?"

"Because you're perfect Peter Parker—"

"Hey! I am not perfect! You take that back!"

"—with your perfect hair—"

"Pretty sure that's _you_ , numbskull, not me."

"—and perfect smile—"

"Again, _you_ , not me."

"—and perfect brain—"

"Okay, you got me, that's not you. But my brain's not perfect. I mean, I can't even drive, dude."

"—and now you're _Spider-Man_ too? Aw, man, life is so _unfair_ sometimes!"

Johnny covered his face with his hands and wallowed in the unfairness that was his life. When he looked up from between his fingers, Parker had a little half-smile on his face.

"Why are you smiling at me like that?" Johnny asked nervously.

"You think my hair and smile are perfect?" Parker asked, tilting his head in that very familiar Spidey way. Johnny had no idea how he'd missed it before now. Now that he knew, it was so...obvious. And confusing. Spidey's mannerisms with Parker's—admittedly very nice—face.

"Girls dig you," Johnny shrugged. "You know they do."

"Are you saying I'm hot?" Parker asked earnestly, leaning towards Johnny over the car's engine. "You're saying I'm hot. Do you really think I'm hot? I mean, me?"

Johnny kept backtracking as deftly as he could. "Well, not compared to me, of course. I'm _much_ hotter. I get waaaay more girls than you too."

"Oh my god," Parker said, stunned. "You _totally_ think I'm hot."

"Well, you know," Johnny said, tilting his head and squinting at Parker, "when the light hits you at exactly the right angle, you're almost...still totally _not_ hot."

"Right. I guess that's why you agreed to go out on a date with me."

"What?" Johnny said, knocked off balance. "You were really asking me out on a date?"

"No, moron!" Parker said dismissively. "But _you_ thought I was, and you said yes."

"I only said yes _after_ you said it wasn't."

"Still, it's interesting that that's the first place your mind went," Parker said airily.

"What was I supposed to think?" Johnny said defensively. "You asked me out for drinks, or coffee! Those are date things. People do those on dates!"

"Friends do them too," Parker pointed out calmly.

Johnny squinted at Parker as a thought struck him. "Y'know, it just occurred to me. You said my hair and smile were perfect too. Does that mean you think I'm hot?"

"Hey, I did _not_ say—" Parker froze as he realized Johnny was right. He clapped a gloved hand over his mouth. "Oh shit, I guess I sort of did..." he said, voice muffled, face turning slightly pink.

"It's okay, Spidey," Johnny said reassuringly, "everyone thinks I'm smokin'. Because, you know, they have eyes."

Parker shook his head. "And that," he said, "is exactly why everyone hates you."

"You're the one everyone thinks is a menace, y'know, not me," Johnny pointed out.

"No," Parker shot back, "everyone just thinks you're a shallow pretty boy."

Johnny gave him a wounded look. " _You_ don't think that, though, do you?"

"You're definitely not pretty," Parker said lightly. "As for the rest..."

Johnny stiffened. "I am _not_ shallow!" he shouted angrily.

"Eh. You're a little bit shallow," Parker teased.

Johnny looked outraged. " _That_ is—you are just—" he spluttered. "I can't _believe_ you think that!" He pouted, upset.

"You're also, on occasion, not a bad person," Parker said conciliatorily, rolling his eyes. "Now stop looking at me like that before I say something really mushy. You look like a kicked puppy."

"Well, since we're complimenting each other," Johnny said, reluctantly, "and I think we're very lucky hell hasn't frozen over yet, I guess it must be my turn. You're not bad either, pal. Apart from being annoyingly perfect."

Parker blushed. "I'm _not_ perfect," he grumbled.

"Eh," Johnny said. "You're a little bit perfect."

Parker blushed harder. "Are you _hitting_ on me right now? After I told you my girlfriend just _died_?" He shook his head. "I regret taking off my mask. I regret it so much I might just invent time travel so I can take it back." 

"Too late. Reed invented it last Thursday."

"Did he really?" Parker asked, intrigued.

Johnny snorted. "No. I don't know. Probably. He was locked up in the lab so long he started to stink. Ben literally had to pick him up and drag him out. He was muttering something about the time-space continuum, but I'm not totally sure he didn't want to destroy it. I've got this theory that he's gonna go full-out super villain someday," Johnny confided.

Parker snorted. "That'll be me in a few years, I'm sure."

"Oh, Spidey, Spidey, Spidey. You don't need to lock yourself up in a lab. You already reek, buddy."

Parker's mouth dropped open. "I do not!"

"Yeah," Johnny said. "How often do you wash your Spidey-suit exactly?"

"Once a week?"

Johnny raised an eyebrow at him skeptically. 

"A month?"

Johnny looked smug. "That's what I thought."

Parker's face turned crimson. "I hate you."

"No, you don't. You love me."

"Ha ha. Sure I do, Flamebrain. You keep telling yourself that."

"Don't deny our love, Parker!"

"There's no love to deny!"

"We have a total bromance, and you know it."

"As long as we agree the bromance is platonic, I'd still have to say you're totally delusional."

"You told me your secret identity. How many other people have you told? I'm willing to bet it isn't that many."

"Not many is a not inaccurate assessment."

"'S what I thought. Bromance. Told you, Webhead."

"Delusional."

"Whatever, Bugboy."

"Arachnid, Johnny, spiders are arachnids. As I have told you many, many times before."

"Did you?" Johnny said flippantly. "Wasn't listening. Probably cause I totally don't care."

"I care," Parker said.

"You, pal, are a nerd. I am not."

"You're a little bit of a nerd."

"Phfft. Am not."

"You like  _Star Wars_ and video games and _The Matrix_ and horror films. You're a total nerd. Join the dark side, Johnny. Embrace your nerdiness."

"Nope. Cause I am not a nerd."

"Phfft. Now who's in denial?"

"You. Always you."

"You're in denial about how terrible your hair looks."

"Oh yeah? Well, you're in denial about how horrible your ass looks in those tights."

"Spend a lot of time looking at my ass, there, Storm?"

Johnny's cheeks turned pink. "No," he said, flustered. "Who'd want to look at that monstrosity?"

"You, apparently."

"Shut up, Parker. Can we get back to work now?" Johnny said. "I think I've reached my limit on listening to the annoying things that come out of your mouth."

Parker gave him a strange look. "Sure," he said with a shrug. "If that's how you feel about it."

Johnny went back to work on the engine, and Parker followed suit.

The thing was, Parker was _really_ cute, and Johnny had always thought so, and he really liked Spidey's personality and always had, even if he was a total nerd (which Johnny just thought was cute, really).

"You sure you weren't really asking me out on a date?" Johnny blurted out abruptly, before he could stop himself.

Parker stopped screwing in a bolt, looked up at Johnny, and blinked, surprised. "What?"

"A date. You really weren't asking me?"

"No...why?"

Johnny shrugged and focused back on the engine. "Meh," he said, "just a shame, is all."

Parker frowned. "...why?"

"I dunno," Johnny said, eyes fixed on the engine. "You're hot?"

"I though you said I wasn't?"

Johnny shrugged noncommittally. 

"Do you mean that you actually want to go out on a date with me?" Parker pointed a wrench at Johnny. "You told me you weren't gay."

"Right," Johnny said flatly. "Because people never lie about that. Besides, I happen to really not be gay."

"Then why do you want to go on a date with me? Straight guys don't want to date other guys. Or they are by definition not straight."

Johnny gave an exasperated sigh. "I wasn't lying about not being gay. I mean, I love the ladies, you know I do. Everyone knows that. But I also love dudes. And people who aren't either. And, um, people who are aliens. Like, you know, I dated this red insect-alien once, who wasn't strictly speaking a dude or a girl. The sex was _wild_ , let me tell you." He looked directly at Peter. "From this you have hopefully gathered that I'm pansexual, dipshit."

Parker stared at him, shocked. "Oh," he said. "I didn't know. I had no idea. I've known you for years, and I didn't know."

"Yeah," Johnny shrugged, like it wasn't a big deal. "Not many people do. Including Sue and the rest of the FF, so _do not tell them, or I will hurt you_. Well, they don't know I'm into human dudes, anyways. They know I've dated aliens who aren't ladies. Well, I'm not entirely sure if they realized they weren't strictly speaking ladies, or that they were straight-up dudes, but whatever. They just weren't paying attention, if they didn't."

"You told me and you haven't told Sue? She isn't gonna like that, Johnny."

"I get to pick who I come out to and when, not Sue. I'll tell her. Someday."

"Can I ask why you haven't told her? She is your sister. And you can't honestly believe it would make any difference to her. Or Reed. Or Ben. It definitely wouldn't."

Johnny rolled his eyes. "I dunno. I mean, I dated Wyatt, and I think Sue probably knew, I mean I lived with the guy, but we just never talked about it. She probably knows, honestly. I bet she's just waiting for me to tell her. She would totally do that."

"Well," Parker said, "why don't you? It'd probably make her happy. I know I'm happy you told me."

"Why?"

"I don't know. Cause I care about you? Cause it means you trust me, and that I'm your friend?"

"Aw," Johnny said, pressing his hands to his chest and sniffling theatrically. "That was _beautiful_. Hold me, Peter." He didn't know why, but it was like a switch had been flicked, and he could no longer think of Peter as Parker. He was Peter now, funny, brave, perfect Peter.

Peter laughed and shook his head affectionately. "Shut up, idiot." He frowned. "So why did you decide to tell me now?"

"You told me your big secret," Johnny explained offhandedly. "I figure we're even now. Also, there's a possibility that I may try to get into your pants at some point, especially if I'm drunk, 'cause, uh, you're kind of hot and it's kind of what I do. Figured I should maybe give you a heads up or something."

Peter blushed seven different shades of red. "Oh," he said. "Okay then. I, uh, have been warned."

"Do you want me to not?" Johnny asked. "I don't want things to get weird between us. I can totally not try if you want, dude. Or, y'know, just ignore me when I do. I won't get pissed. I flirt with everyone, pretty much. It doesn't mean anything. Unless you want it to, of course."

Peter shrugged. "I don't know. If it makes me uncomfortable, I'll let you know. But, um," he licked his lips, "I really don't think I'm ready to date anyone just yet. I'm really not over Gwen. My girlfriend. The one who died. Her name was Gwen."

"Buddy, again, sorry about what happened to your girlfriend. You didn't deserve that, and neither did she. But I get that it's too soon for you to date yet. Just if you ever do want to, y'know, just say the word. Or even if you want a not-date. I mean, we could just have sex without dating. Blow off some steam. Forget our troubles. If we felt like it. Because that is also an option."

Peter's cheeks still had a faint flush. "Right. I'll keep that in mind."

"And don't think that I didn't notice that you didn't say you weren't interested in guys."

"Oh," Peter said, "well, um, I honestly have never even kissed a guy."

"Well," Johnny said. "Maybe you should. College is when you're supposed to experiment with your sexuality and all that. Besides, dude, you'd totally have to be an idiot to turn down someone as hot as me, dude or girl."

Peter rolled his eyes. "Whatever, dumbass."

"Just saying. I am _really_ hot."

"If you are, why do you feel the need to remind everyone of it every two seconds?"

"I don't say it every two seconds."

"Hi, I'm Johnny! I'm hot. Oh, and did I mention I was hot? No? Okay, so I'm hot."

Johnny frowned. "I get the feeling you find it irritating."

"What the hell gave you that idea?!" Peter shouted, irritated.

Johnny looked off to the side like he was considering that. He looked back at Peter and squinted. "But you do think I'm hot, right?"

Peter face-palmed. "We've been over this," he said wearily.

"Right," Johnny said smugly. "If I remember right, we decided that you _did_ think I was hot."

Peter's cheeks turned pink. "Shut up, Johnny," he grumbled.

Johnny went back to fixing the engine, glancing up at Peter's face every now and then with a happy smile. Peter turned pink every time he caught Johnny doing it.

Johnny felt his heart melt a little more each time.

Oh boy. Peter was going to be trouble, Johnny just knew it.

Not that he wasn't always.

But a _new_ kind—

He was going to be a new kind of trouble.

* * *

Peter told Johnny his real name. He didn't know why.

He _did_ know that it was wrong and awful and selfish of him.

The look of quiet sympathy in Johnny's warm blue eyes, the promise of intimacy and companionship—it had simply been too much to resist.

* * *

After Nina and her friends—the Red Ghost and his monkey friends (who could parallel-park, for the record, which perfect Peter Parker _couldn't_ )—were defeated, Reed showed up and announced he was firing Peter.

"I can't keep your friend Parker on," Reed told Peter, "not after he so cavalierly gave you the codes to my lab."

"I see your point," Peter said, defeated, and turned to look at Johnny pleadingly.

 _Aw hell,_ Johnny thought. _I gotta do something!_

"Reed," he said. " _I_ let Spidey in. Parker had nothin' to do with it. Don't fire him, please!"

Reed looked like he didn't quite believe him. "If that's the case, why didn't Spider-Man mention it?"

"He, uh, didn't want to get me in trouble. But, um, I can't let Parker lose his job over this! That'd suck. So yell at me all you want, Reed, it's my fault."

Reed sighed. "We'll talk about this later, Jonathan."

"Can Parker keep his job, then?" Johnny asked hopefully.

"Yes, I suppose so."

Behind Reed's back, Peter pumped both his fists in the air victoriously. Johnny beamed at him over Reed's shoulder.

When Reed whirled around, Peter froze. "Heh," he said, sounding embarrassed, as he lowered his arms. "I was just. Glad Parker got to keep his job? He's, uh, a friend, and all."

Reed arched an eyebrow, before sighing, shaking his head, and saying, "I'd best go see to my gravity localizer. Son, I would appreciate it if that was the last time you used one of my inventions without my permission. Some may be unsafe to remove from the lab."

"Yes, Mr. Fantastic, sir," Peter said meekly.

Reed walked off.

* * *

Peter sped over to Johnny. "I could kiss you! Thanks for that."

Johnny smirked at him. Peter instantly regretted bringing up kissing. It was like waving a red flag in front of a bull. "Maybe some other time, Webhead."

"Shut up, Johnny," he said, embarrassed. "You know what I mean."

Johnny kept smirking. "You're gonna be working in the building I live in."

"Yeah," Peter said slowly, as if he was just now realizing the full implications of that. "Guess I am."

"I'm gonna see you every day."

"Tuesdays and Thursdays," Peter corrected. "I have classes on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays."

"Admit it," Johnny said smugly. "You wanted to work there to be close to me. Couldn't get enough of me and my totally hot bod."

"No!" Peter scoffed. "I wanted to work there cause Reed's a genius, and his lab's like a toy store for me. It's a great opportunity for professional development, and..." He trailed off.

Johnny raised his eyebrows and didn't stop with that annoying smirk.

Peter caved in after a brief staring contest, even if it was only because he wanted Johnny to stop with the smirking. "Okay, fine," he admitted. "The fact that you would be there all the time _maybe_ had _something_ to do with why I applied. But it had nothing to do with your totally hot bod, for the record."

Johnny's smirk turned into a triumphant grin. Peter wasn't sure it was better.

"You agree that I have a hot bod, then?" Johnny said.

"No. No. That's not what I meant."

"What did you mean, then? 'Cause I think that's what you meant."

"Johnny, _stop_."

"It's okay," Johnny said reassuringly. "You don't have to be afraid to admit it. I do have a rockin' bod." 

Peter face-palmed.

* * *

MJ had been waiting, somewhat impatiently, outside of Peter's apartment for about fifteen minutes. This was his first day at the Baxter Building, MJ knew, and he was due back any minute. 

Well, about fifteen minutes ago, to be exact. 

Peter was always late to everything. She was sure he'd even find a way to be late to his own funeral. Cliche? Maybe. But in his case? Very true.

Of all of the personality traits she wished had changed, the chronic lateness and flakiness? Yeah, that would've been the one she'd've picked. Not the nerdy enthusiasm or corny sense of humor—those two were mostly endearing.

She hoped his lateness wasn't because his first day had gone badly. That would probably send him spiraling right back into that funk he'd been in for months. 

He'd been slightly more animated and hopeful since she'd helped him get the internship. She suspected it was because he, at last, had something to look forward to when he got up in the mornings.

Still, she would give anything to see the return of Peter's old level of enthusiasm. 

She'd even be willing to listen to him rant about how terrible the newest  _Star Trek_ film had been for the fifty-millionth time if it meant he actually cared about something again.

She crossed her arms over her chest, grasping her elbows, waiting for Peter to show up.

She'd told him she would be here waiting for him. That boy had better show.

Finally, finally, she heard someone coming up the stairs. 

"That you, Tiger?" she called.

"Yeah! Hi, MJ!" she heard him say. 

She pushed off the wall and leaned onto the railing. "Tiger! Hi! How'd it go?" she said, smiling down at him.

She spotted Peter two flights down, holding onto the blue-and-black backpack he had slung over one shoulder with one hand and hugging a stack of files to his chest with the other.

Peter smiled. "Good!" he said cheerfully. "It went good! Well, I mean, I almost got fired because Spider-Man broke into Professor Richards' lab and stole one of his inventions, and he thought I'd given him the codes. Which I didn't for the record. But Johnny defended me, so, yay! I got to keep my job!"

She pressed a friendly kiss to his cheek when he got close enough. That was the most she'd heard him say at once in _ages_. "Hold on," she said, pulling back and frowning, "back up! Spider-Man _stole_ one of Professor Richards' inventions? Oh my god, was JJJ right about him?"

"No! Don't worry. It was just for his car, and he gave it back."

He got the door open at last—the lock stuck unless you twisted the key in a very specific way—and strolled in, dropping the files in an unceremonious heap on the wooden coffee table, and dumping his backpack on the floor next to the couch, before plopping down to talk to MJ, one foot resting on the table.

MJ followed him in. "Spider-Man has a _car_?!" she said, shocked and weirded by the revelation. "Why the hell does he have a car? Can't he just web-sling around the city? That has _got_ to be faster than dealing with New York traffic!" She sat next to him, crossing one leg over the other.

"Yeah, I think he figured that out. Professor Richards' invention let him drive on walls. 's why he took it, I guess." He snagged one of the half-empty, weeks-old bags of cheetos that was lying on the coffee table.

"Spider-Man has a car that can drive on walls?!" She shook her head. "He's so weird."

Peter snickered. "Many, many people would agree with you," he said, munching on a bright-orange cheeto. "Well, he doesn't have it anymore. Dr. Richards was not happy with him, and he made Spider-Man and Johnny give it back. The localizer, not the car."

MJ pressed her hands to the sides of her head. "This conversation is giving me a headache."

"Aw," Peter said sympathetically. "Need an aspirin?"

MJ whacked his arm. "This is no time to be sarcastic!"

"What?" Peter said defensively. "I was being nice!"

MJ narrowed her eyes at him, looked up at the ceiling, let out a long exhale, and said, "You really need to work on your not sarcastic voice."

"Duly noted."

"But you had fun at work?"

"Yep, MJ, I had _so_ much fun."

"Johnny stuck up for you? Does that mean you're friends now?"

"Yeah, y'know, I think we are," Peter said, a grin blossoming slowly over his face.

MJ looked skeptical. "Isn't he kind of awful, though? A flirt, not very smart, arrogant, self-involved, kind of a brat, y'know, all those terrible stories you see about him in the tabloids?"

"MJ," Peter said reproachfully, "don't believe what you read in the papers. I work for _The Daily Bugle_ , and let me tell you, they are rarely ever right. Especially about Spidey. Johnny's a good guy. He's nice, and awesome, and totally a hero. But don't tell him I said that." 

MJ arched an eyebrow. "Planning on signing up for his fan club?" she smirked.

"No!" Peter said, scandalized. "For one thing, if he ever found out, I'd never hear the end of it. Geez," he rubbed his chin, "can you imagine?"

"Given that I've never met the guy, I'll take your word for it."

"It would be _awful,_ like you don't even know."

"I thought you said you liked him?"

"I do, but we kind of do this thing where we tease each other... _a lot_. So never, under any circumstances, tell him about anything nice I have ever said about him _ever_. In fact, don't talk to him about me at all. I don't need him finding out about dorky things I've done. He really doesn't need anymore ammunition."

"Well, there goes every story about you I've got."

One corner of Peter's mouth quirked up. "Shut up, MJ."

MJ smiled back at him. "Not a chance." She reached out and squeezed his hand. "Well, Tiger, I'm glad this worked out!" She grinned and clapped her hands joyfully. "Teehee, I helped you get a job you like! I feel awesome now." She leaned her head back, closed her eyes, and allowed herself to bask in the glory of her success.

Peter shook his head, offended. "I had something to do with it too, y'know," he huffed. " _I'm_ the one who's the genius."

MJ threw her hair back over her shoulder with a theatrical flourish. "There are all kinds of genius. Mine is getting you awesome jobs."

"Well, how about getting me a raise at _The Bugle_? Think you can go toe-to-toe with JJJ?"

MJ snapped her fingers and said, "Easy as that."

Peter laughed. "You've never seen him when he's angry. There's this vein on the side of his head that always starts throbbing. I swear to god, it's gonna burst open someday, and there'll be blood everywhere. Also there's a lot of flying spittle. It's really gross, now that I think about it."

MJ made a face. "Flying spit? I changed my mind. Pass. I'll get you another, better job."

"Well, now that Harry's MIA, I could probably use the extra cash."

MJ grew serious. "You haven't seen him at all?" she said, sounding worried. 

"Not in weeks. No clue where he went, but his bed hasn't been slept in, like, in _ages_."

"I thought he'd stop by every now and then. I didn't know he'd disappeared completely! Maybe we should call the police. You don't think he's like a homeless junkie now, do you? Are we being bad friends by not going out and looking for him? Or telling the police he's disappeared?"

Peter shrugged. "I don't know, maybe." He winced. "Sorry about your break-up. I don't think I ever had the chance to tell you that."

MJ shrugged sadly. "It's okay. He was...there wasn't any way I could've saved him."

Peter put an arm around her shoulders. "Yeah, MJ, y'know what happened to Harry wasn't your fault, right?"

MJ was staring down at her knees morosely. "I don't know. I can't help but think if I'd been paying more attention, realized he was using drugs earlier, I might've been able to reach him. Maybe breaking up with him to get him to realize how far down he'd sunk wasn't the right move. I don't know. Maybe if I'd stuck with him I could've reached him."

"Hey, I didn't notice either. And as soon as we did, we got him all the help we could. He didn't want our help—there was nothing more we could do. Staying with him wouldn't've made a difference."

MJ leaned her head against his shoulder. "Guess we've both had some bad luck when it comes to romance, haven't we?"

"Yeah, guess we have."

"Things'll start looking up, though, I'm sure. I'll get a job in a big play, and Professor Richards will realize that you're a genius, and we'll both be awesome and famous."

"Being famous is _not_ as fun as it sounds."

"How would you know, Tiger?"

"Uh, Johnny was whining about it."

"Oh, _Johnny_ was whining about it."

"What was with that tone of voice?"

"You're bringing him up an awful lot."

"What? No, I'm not!"

"Y'are a little." Her eyes narrowed. "Wait, do you like him? Like, like him like him?"

Peter drew his arm back and moved away. "Don't be ridiculous," he said a tad too quickly. "I liked Gwen, remember? Who was a lady?"

"Doesn't mean you can't like boys too. Y'know, I always wondered about you. Before you started dating Gwen, I was pretty sure you were gay. Tell you the truth, I think your Aunt May and my aunt thought the same."

"Everybody thought I was gay? You're kidding, right?"

MJ shrugged. "No."

"Why?" Peter asked, a bit caught off-guard by MJ's confession. "Why did you all think that?"

MJ shrugged. "You just...seemed like you were hiding something. Y'know," she added, snapping her fingers as she remembered, "Harry thought you might be dating Spider-Man."

Peter choked on a half-chewed cheeto; MJ pounded on his back. "Spidey?" he gasped. "No, no, I swear, I have  _never_ dated him."

"Shame. His ass looks _great_ in those tights, I have to say."

Peter's cheeks flushed pink. "Oh, uh, does it? I've never noticed."

"Yeah, you can tell he really works out a lot."

"Right," Peter said uncomfortably.

"C'mon, you can't tell me you've never noticed."

"I have honestly never looked at his ass, MJ. Swear to god."

"Uh-huh. Either you're blind or you're lying."

"Let's go with blind, for the sake of my sanity."

MJ snorted. 

There was a rap on the door. Peter and MJ, startled, both turned to look at the door.

MJ glanced at Peter. "You expectin' someone, Tiger?"

"Uh, well, yeah, um, kind of," Peter said evasively.

"Let me guess. Johnny Storm."

"Heh. Yes?" Peter said, wincing, as he stood up to open the door.

MJ rolled her eyes. "Go on, let your boyfriend in."

Peter whirled around. "He's _not_ \--Do  _not_ under any circumstances, say that in front of him! Promise, MJ!"

MJ raised both hands in surrender. "Fine, I promise."

"Well, good," Peter said lamely.

He opened the door, and grinned brightly when he saw Johnny. "Hey, Storm! What kept ya?"

"Oh, y'know," Johnny said. "Got lost on my way to this totally awful neighborhood."

Peter scowled. "I live with Harry Osborn! Who is rich! And who pays for this place! It is _not_ a bad neighborhood, rich kid."

"Oh, I know that guy!" Johnny said excitedly. "Didn't his dad just die?"

Peter face-palmed. "Maybe _don't_ bring that up around him, if you see him?" he said through gritted teeth.

"Oh yeah, whoops, won't say a word, promise." He looked at Peter expectantly. "You, uh, gonna let me in?"

"I'm thinking about it, okay?" Peter said testily.

Johnny squinted at him. "I get the feeling that you're mad at me about something," he said.

Peter groaned and thunked his head against the door. He straightened up and said, "Oh, just come in, whatever." Johnny walked in. "This is MJ."

MJ waved cheerfully. "Hi! Mary Jane Watson, Peter's friend, since he apparently sucks at introductions."

"Hey!" Peter shouted, shutting the door. "I resent that!"

"Well, hello, pretty lady!" Johnny said flirtatiously as he sped over to snag the spot next to MJ. "The nerd here never mentioned having any hot friends. I thought I would be the only one," he added, preening.

Peter said, "What? Why would I mention that? Who would even go around _saying_ things like that?" He sat on Johnny's other side.

" _I_ would," Johnny countered.

Peter rolled his eyes. "Of _course_ you would, Johnny. That is so exactly what you'd do."

"Aw," MJ sniffed, pressing both hands to her chest, "you two are so cute together! You sound like an old married couple already."

"Shut up, MJ," Peter groused. "Ignore her, Johnny. She's just teasing."

MJ shrugged. "You guys _would_ make a cute couple, though."

"We aren't gay, kid," Johnny said, "but I am on the market for a new girlfriend, if you're interested." He waggled his eyebrows at her.

"Now you're just flirting with me so I won't think you're gay," MJ said. "I see right through you, Storm. Still doesn't mean you're not into dudes."

"Well, I did date a Trill once," Johnny admitted. "They've got like eighteen different genders, and good god, does _that_ get confusing. They are _so_ hot, though."

MJ and Peter both stared at him, speechless.

"What?" Johnny asked innocently. "You've never met a Trill?"

"You have a weird life," MJ told him. "Interesting. I can see why Peter likes you so much."

"I do _not_ like him so much!" Peter protested, sounding utterly frustrated. "Why would you even say that?"

MJ shot him a look. "Johnny's sooo awesome, MJ!" she said, mimicking Peter. "He's a hero, MJ! I'm totally gonna join his fan club."

"I did _not_ say that!" Peter said. He turned to Johnny, who was covering his mouth with his hand, shoulders shaking with silent laughter. "I didn't, Johnny, I swear!"

"Oh, you did so!" she said. "You love him, and you know it."

"Silence, traitor!" Peter roared, pointing accusingly at MJ. 

Johnny put his arm around Peter's shoulders and squeezed. "I believe ya, buddy. Don't worry." He winked at MJ so that Peter couldn't see. She giggled. "So, whaddya say we order pizza and watch a movie?"

"Yeah, okay, I'm fine with that," Peter said.

"And y'know, as a favor to you, buddy, I'll call Maureen, the head of the local chapter of my fan club, and get you a free membership. You'll even get the monthly newsletter, and a free poster of my face."

Peter flushed; MJ and Johnny both laughed hysterically.

"I hate you both," Peter announced. "But I want the poster. I can throw darts at it when I'm mad at you."

Johnny pouted at him. "Harsh, dude."

"Don't let him fool you," MJ teased. "I bet he wants it so that he can kiss it goodnight."

"He can kiss _me_ goodnight, if he wants to," Johnny said flirtatiously.

MJ and Peter both stared at him.

"What?" Johnny said uncomfortably. "Why are you both looking at me like that?"

MJ sighed. "Y'know, if you don't want people to know you're into guys, you might not want to talk about kissing them."

Johnny flushed. "Oh. Yeah. Good idea."

Peter rolled his eyes. "Smart, Storm."

"Well," Johnny told him, "you really can, y'know."

Peter patted his hand distractedly as he started to look for the TV remote. "Maybe if you're good."

MJ snorted. "Oh god, there's another one. Are _all_ my guy friends gay? I'm never going to date again."

"I'll date you, babe," Johnny offered.

"No," MJ said. "I meant one of my  _other_ guy friends."

"You have other guy friends?" Peter asked.

"Yes," MJ said. "I'm gorgeous and smart and awesome, why wouldn't I?"

"I'd answer that, but there are ladies present," Peter said.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"That you're evil. She is, Johnny, she is so evil."

MJ smiled serenely. "Maybe a little."

"Johnny's not gay, for the record," Peter told her, reaching between the couch cushions. "And I haven't decided what I am."

"So what's Johnny then?" MJ asked.

"I'm a person, and my name is Johnny," Johnny said petulantly. "Also, I'm right here."

Peter lifted his head up from under the couch cushion he'd been searching beneath. He glared up at Johnny from where he was kneeling on the floor. "She knows your name, dumbass. And if you're going to go around quoting  _Star Wars_ , at least quote one of the good ones. Not the ones I am actively blocking from my memory." 

Johnny shrugged. "I liked it. The podracing scene was _awesome_."

Peter rolled his eyes. "Of _course_ you'd like the racing scene."

Johnny stuck his tongue out at him. "Jerk."

Peter reciprocated. "Moron."

"Please stop embarrassing yourselves and just get a room," MJ told them. "I can't take all of the flirting."

"That was an insult," Peter pointed out. "Not flirting."

MJ snorted. "You keep tellin' yourself that, Tiger."

"I'm pansexual, just FYI," Johnny informed her. "But don't tell anyone. You two are the only ones who know, apart from some of the people I've dated."

Peter shot him a look. "You've dated a lot of people, though, haven't you?"

"Yeah," Johnny said, "but y'know, mostly girls. The only ones who know I'm not straight are the ones who _weren't_ girls, cause I couldn't exactly lie about it. I never had any reason to tell the girls."

"Johnny, that means a lot of people probably know."

"So what's your point?"

"The more people know, the likelier it is the news will get ahold of it. And believe me, you probably are gonna want to have told your family before that happens."

"Aw, man, you've got a point." He waved a hand dismissively. "But I don't wanna deal with it. Maybe later."

Peter shrugged. "Suit yourself, Flamebrain."

MJ tittered. "Flamebrain. That's a good one, Peter."

He grinned at her. "Thanks. Tell everyone to call him that."

"What?" Johnny said. "No, come on, Pete!"

"If the shoe fits, Flamebrain," Peter shrugged.

Johnny pouted at him. 

"Ooo!" Peter crowed victoriously, holding up the remote. "Found it!"

"Awesome," Johnny said, yanking it out of his hand. "I wanna pick what we're watching."

"No," Peter said, trying to grab it back. "Not happening. We'll just wind up watching _The Real Housewives of New Jersey_ or something."

"I don't watch that show, so probably not." Johnny was holding Peter to one side while the latter grabbed unsuccessfully for the remote.

"Oh, too bad," Peter said snidely, giving up. "It's totally trashy, just like you. You'd probably love it."

"I'm trashy now?!"

"You were always trashy, Johnny."

"I am not, and also, I resent that."

"We could watch _Star Wars_."

"Which is totally nerdy, just like you."

Peter shrugged indifferently. "Yes, I am a nerd; no, I am not ashamed of it. I own my nerdiness."

"I'm fine watching _Star_ _Wars_ ," MJ volunteered. "As long as it's one of the good ones. And by good ones I mean the new ones, not the ones with the awful special effects."

Johnny and Peter both turned to stare at her, matching looks of horror on their faces.

"What?" MJ said sweetly.

"Sacrilege!" Johnny shouted.

"Ignore her," Peter said. "She is totally just trolling us."

Johnny squinted at her skeptically. "Are you trolling us?"

MJ's eyes widened. "Me? Oh god no! Why would I even do such a thing?"

"Because you are an evil hellspawn?" Peter said cheerfully.

"Well," MJ allowed. "There is that."

Johnny's eyes widened. He turned to Peter. "I like her," he whispered loudly. "Can I keep her?"

"What are you asking me for?" Peter said. "Ask her!"

"Marry me?" Johnny said to MJ.

She snorted. "In your dreams, Flamebrain."

Peter held up his hand. MJ high-fived him.

"That's the spirit," Peter told her.

"You suck," Johnny told Peter.

"You wish he would," MJ told Johnny.

"No," Johnny said. "I generally like to do the sucking. I'm actually very good at it." He winked at Peter, eyes twinkling.

Peter babbled something incoherent, face red.

"What?" MJ said, shooting Johnny an amused look. "I didn't catch that. Deep breaths, Peter."

"I said that we should maybe order the pizza now."

"If we have to," Johnny sighed. "I kind of liked the way the conversation was going, personally."

"I'll bet you did," Peter muttered.

* * *

Nobody could agree on the toppings, so they wound up ordering three pizzas.

Peter ate all of his own and half of Johnny's.

Johnny seemed both horrified and impressed at the amount of food Peter was capable of eating. "For god's sake, Pete!" he said. "Where the hell do you put it all?"

"I have a very high metabolism," Peter explained. "And a very active lifestyle."

"You lie in bed all day," MJ said. "How exactly is that active?"

"I do stuff. Like for work. I have muscles."

MJ took in his slight build. "Right. Flamebrain here has muscles. You have noodles for arms."

Peter rolled his eyes. "If that's what you wanna think, MJ."

"Peter has nice muscles," Johnny said. "I think you look nice, Pete."

"Of _course_ you do," MJ muttered.

"So," Johnny asked, gesturing at the TV that was playing _A New Hope_ , "if you could be one of the three main characters, who would you be? I'd be Han Solo."

"I'd be Luke," Peter said.

"I guess that leaves Leia, which is fine, cause she rocks," MJ said.

"Halloween costumes?" Johnny said. "I'd love to see you in the slave outfit, princess," he leered at MJ.

"No," MJ said. "I refuse to wear that. I was thinking her badass Endor outfit."

"Aw," Johnny pouted. "You suck."

"Also, don't call me princess."

"Whatever you say, your highness."

"Don't call me that either."

"Sure, queenie."

MJ crinkled her nose in disgust. "I think I preferred princess. If you must," she said pompously, "you can call me god-empress of the universe. I will accept that title."

Peter snorted. "Why are all of my friends delusional?"

MJ shrugged. "You have a gift for choosing awesome friends?"

"He really does, doesn't he?" Johnny grinned.

"Well, with some exceptions," MJ said, looking pointedly at Johnny. "He has some _what-the-hell-were-you-thinking?_ moments."

"He was thinking that I'm awesome," Johnny said smugly.

"I don't think he was thinking that with his big brain," MJ said dryly.

"I don't have a problem with that," Johnny told her. "As long as he thought it."

"Shut the hell up, MJ," Peter scowled.

"God-empress of the universe," MJ corrected.

Peter snorted. "No way in hell am I calling you that, like ever."

* * *

"So, god-empress," Peter said, ten minutes later, "you gonna finish that pizza?"

MJ shot him a look. "You've already eaten your pizza, and half of Johnny's, and now you want mine?"

Peter nodded.

MJ rolled her eyes and shoved her pizza at him. "Take it, bottomless pit."

Peter began eating her pizza enthusiastically. He made a face. "Are there mushrooms on this?"

MJ nodded.

"Yuck," he said, still eating it. "I hate mushrooms."

"That doesn't seem to be stopping you," MJ said. 

Peter shrugged. "I'm hungry."

"You just ate one and a half pizzas."

"I'm a growing boy."

"Yeah, growing sideways," Johnny muttered.

"I heard that!" Peter said.

"You were supposed to," Johnny told him.

Peter glared at him and took a very pointed bite of pizza. "Screw you, Storm. Pizza's good. I will eat as much pizza as pleases me. And you can't stop me."

Johnny watched Peter silently for a few moments, fascinated. "It's like watching a slow-motion train wreck," he said in an awed whisper.

Peter threw a mushroom at him.

* * *

"So," Johnny said, standing in the hallway talking to Peter as he was leaving later that night, "was I good?"

"What?" Peter asked, confused.

"You said if I was good, you'd kiss me goodnight."

Peter frowned. "Did I? I don't remember that."

"Well," Johnny said, arching an eyebrow, "was I?"

Peter stared indecisively at him. "No," he said, and slammed the door shut in Johnny's face.

Johnny let out a long-suffering sigh. "Clearly I have to up my game if I want to get into his pants. But it will happen, Parker," he said, glaring at the closed door and shaking a fist. "Oh, it will happen. You can count on it."

"I can hear your evil supervillain monologue, dumbass. The door's not soundproof," Peter shouted through the door.

"Oops," Johnny said, and fled down the hall.


	2. Of Coffee and Karaoke

"Peter, are you in there?" Johnny called, pounding vigorously on the brown wooden door of Peter's apartment until his hand started to ache.

Johnny was awake _annoyingly early_ because Peter hadn't shown up for work that morning.

Over the last few weeks, Johnny had gotten into the bad habit of stopping by the lab a good thirty minutes before Peter's shift ended, inevitably distracting Peter from his work until Reed, exasperated, would give up and shoo Johnny out into the hall, ordering him to wait patiently for Peter _somewhere else_.

Johnny had never been very good at waiting, so he _hated_ that, and contented himself by sulking at Reed whenever he got the chance.

He'd go off to his garage until Peter showed up, although, since it was workaholic Reed Peter was working for, that was sometimes as much as an hour's wait. 

Peter never missed a day of his internship. He _loved_ it—Johnny knew that because Peter talked incessantly about how awesome Reed and all of his experiments were, in a way not too different from how Johnny imagined a child would talk about Walt Disney or Disneyland.

So when Peter still hadn't shown up after an hour this morning, Reed, concerned, _very inconsiderately_  woke Johnny up and asked after Peter, having figured out from the way Johnny was always hanging around Peter that they were friends now.

When Peter didn't answer Johnny's texts or calls, Johnny made a show of grumbling a bit about _how damned early_ it was but got dressed and rushed over to Peter's apartment right away anyhow. 

Reed was surprised at how worried Johnny'd gotten when Peter didn't answer. Then again, Reed  _didn't_ know that Peter was Spider-Man, and could be in serious trouble.

If Peter wasn't in his apartment, Johnny wasn't going to give up. He'd just have to start scouring the city until he found Peter. 

Peter might need his help, and god knows that Peter was that especially dangerous combination of too proud and too much of an idiot to ever just  _ask_ when he needed help. 

Johnny suspected it might partially be due to how much of a loner Peter was. He didn't seem to have many friends besides Johnny and MJ.

Peter didn't seem to understand that that was what friends were _for_ , some of the time, at least. Helping you when you needed it. He was genuinely surprised whenever Johnny did help, or whenever he even just _offered_ to help.

Johnny thought it was... _heartbreaking_ , really. He tried not to think too much about what Peter's life must've been like when he was younger.

MJ was pretty awesome, though. Johnny got why Peter'd befriended her.

She was smart, she was strong, she was fierce, she was loyal, and she was absolutely going to kill him if he didn't figure out what the hell was up with Peter.

"Peter, if you're in there, open the door! If you don't, I'll just fly in through the window! Even if I have to, like, melt it first, and _then_ won't you be pissed!" 

Peter didn't answer. It didn't sound like there was any movement in there either.

Well, if  _that_ hadn't made Peter open the door, Peter was either too hurt to move or just not home.

"Fine," Johnny muttered to himself. "Window it is."

* * *

Johnny went outside and flew up to Peter's bedroom window. He was relieved to find that it was open, which meant he  _didn't_ have to risk incurring Peter's wrath. 

Not setting Peter's things on fire was more tricky.

Peter hated it when his things went up in flames—Johnny knew this from when he'd accidentally set Peter's handmade Millennium Falcon model on fire and was subsequently forced to sit through a three-hour rant on fire safety and why setting other people's things on fire was decidedly  _not okay_.  

MJ'd even begun referring to it as the Millennium Falcon Incident, and taken to whispering "Millennium Falcon" at Johnny when he was on the verge of pissing Peter off and she knew it, even if he didn't.

Johnny flamed off carefully and hit the floor. He couldn't see much in the sudden darkness.

"Pete," he called as he waited for his eyes to adjust, "you in here?"

He opened the blinds a smidge with a quick tug, just enough to let him see. 

The darkened objects in the room gradually swam into focus, and he saw Peter, still in his pajamas, sitting cross-legged on the floor next to his bed, a picture frame lying shattered in front of him. Peter was staring at it with that  _look_  on his face, the one Johnny hated more than anything, the desolate, haunted stare that said he was far away, lost in the dark, where Johnny couldn't reach him.

Johnny rushed over to kneel next to Peter. He reached out and gingerly wrapped his fingers around Peter's wiry wrist. "Pete," he said softly. "You okay?"

Peter blinked slowly a few times, as though coming back from somewhere a long way away, and then his eyes focused on Johnny, something open and vulnerable in their hazel depths. "Johnny?" he asked, disoriented, voice hoarse and raspy as sandpaper. "Why are you here?"

"It's eleven, Pete. You're late for work. Reed was worried." By which he meant _he_ was worried too, but Peter could probably figure that one out on his own.

Peter's face instantly slammed shut, the walls that kept Johnny and everyone else out so effectively rising back into place. "Oh," he said. "I didn't realize I'd been sitting here that long." He wrenched his wrist free of Johnny's grasp and moved to get up. "Tell Reed I'll be there soon."

Johnny followed Peter up and snagged his wrist again, stopping him. Peter kept his face turned away from Johnny.

"Let go of me," Peter said, low and dangerous.

"Not until you tell me what's going on," Johnny replied firmly.

He didn't care if Peter got pissed—clearly something was upsetting him, and he should probably talk about it.

Johnny sighed internally.

It was a sign of how much he liked Peter that he was actually trying to get him to talk about his feelings instead of desperately avoiding it. Talking about feelings was _not_ something Johnny particularly enjoyed, like _ever_.

Sue would totally be proud of him. She was _always_ trying to get him to open up and be all caring and sharing, especially since the whole Crystal thing.

Whenever she tried to have a heart-to-heart with him (even the _phrase_ was enough to make Johnny feel slightly ill), Johnny would just cross his arms and glare at her silently until she rolled her eyes and gave up. 

Either that or he'd put his ear buds in, shut his eyes, and tune her out. That invariably ended with her yanking them out of his ears with a sharp tug, snapping that he was behaving like a child, and storming off. 

And yet here he was, bafflingly trying to get Peter to talk about _his_ feelings.

Why was it that his interactions with Peter so often ended with _Johnny_ being the adult, responsible one?

Oh god. He was the Sue of the relationship, wasn't he? 

 _He was becoming Sue._ Oh god. He supposed it was bound to happen someday. No one could be all cool and irresponsible and totally awesome forever.

If Sue ever found out, he was sure she'd laugh for hours.

Sue could  _never_ find out, Johnny decided. If she did, Johnny'd just have to disown her or something. Because she would be _so damn smug_ about it, Johnny would probably want to refuse to admit he was even related to her.

Johnny glanced down at the broken picture frame and squinted at it. He could make out a pretty blonde in the photo, and a Peter who looked happier than Johnny'd ever seen him. "Is that Gwen?"

Peter twisted his wrist, trying to get away. "I don't want to talk about it," he snapped. "Let _go_."

"It _is_ her. You broke a picture frame, Pete. The photo's fine. You can buy a new frame. It's not that bad."

Peter's jaw tightened. "Gwen gave me that one," he said sharply. "So _no_ , I can't."

Johnny's hand clenched tighter around Peter's wrist. Then he let go. "I'm sorry, Pete. That must've meant a lot to you."

Peter didn't move. "I used to look at that photo a lot right after... _it_  happened. It's from our first date. I wanted to remember the happy days. So I wouldn't forget that good things can happen sometimes too. But now it's gone, and I have nothing, like always. Every time I think I have nothing left to lose, I find out I'm wrong." He was staring down at the ground now, so small and young and very, very lost.

"You _don't_ have nothing," Johnny said instantly, and crossed his arms over his chest. He was afraid that if he left them loose, he'd try to hug Peter like he desperately wanted to, and he wasn't sure Peter was in the mood to let him. He was being all prickly, and it was best to keep your distance, Johnny'd found, from a prickly Peter. "You have MJ. Your Aunt May. And—you know. _Me_."

"Yeah," Peter said distantly, half turned away from Johnny, eyes fixed on billowing white blinds as they wafted back and forth gently in the breeze of the open window. "I guess."

"I'll remind you that good things happen," Johnny offered, trying to find the right words to tell Peter that he wasn't alone anymore, that he hoped would magically wipe away that glimmer of pain that Johnny saw lurking in the depths of Peter's hazel eyes every day. "If you ever need reminding, I can do it. I don't mind being around you when you're sad, you know. To be honest, it's not that different from what you're usually like," he added, trying to get Peter to smile.

The corner of Peter's mouth twitched, but he didn't respond. 

Johnny stayed silent, wishing he knew what to say, letting his eyes drop to the ground.

"I know it's just a stupid picture frame," Peter said tersely after a few seconds, still looking away from Johnny.

Johnny glanced up, startled. Peter hadn't moved, a dark silhouette against the dim light from the window, every line in his body tense and stiff, jaw clenched as tightly as his fists. "I know you do," Johnny said reassuringly.

"I know it's stupid to get so upset about it."

"It's not stupid, Pete." Johnny looked down awkwardly at the tips of his shoes, rubbing his thumb gently across the skin above his elbow. "I, uh, I keep a picture of Crystal in my garage," he confessed. "I even talk to it sometimes." He shrugged. "I miss her a lot some days. Talking to it helps." He sat on the bed, shoulders hunched, distress written all over his features. "Did I tell you I saw her last week?"

"No," Peter said, interested, finally turning to look at him. "Is that where you were?"

Johnny nodded silently, flicking his eyes down to his fingers as they twisted together agitatedly. 

"Why are you just telling me now?" Peter asked as he started creeping over to Johnny slowly.

"You were in a good mood for once. Didn't wanna ruin it with my problems."

"I was in a good mood because of _you_ ," Peter pointed out. "Because you've been helping me. I knew you were kinda down in the dumps. You should've told me. I could've helped you, for a change."

Johnny's shoulder hitched in a half-hearted shrug. 

"What happened?" Peter asked softly. "You wanna talk about it?"

Johnny shrugged again. "No. Yes. I don't know."

"Must've been rough saying goodbye again."

Johnny laughed, a sad, broken, slightly hysterical laugh. It made Peter's heart twist in his chest. "You don't know the half of it, pal," he said.

"What do you mean?" Peter asked, sitting next to Johnny.

"I walked in to see her, all excited, y'know? And—" Johnny shut his eyes and took a deep, shuddery breath. "—she was kissin' another guy. Freakin' _Quicksilver_. With his stupid,  _stupid_  hair, and that _ridiculous_ outfit. So I asked her if she loved him or me. She said she didn't know at first, but before I left, she told me she didn't love me anymore. I pretended I didn't anymore either, but—" He swallowed thickly. "—I  _do_ , Pete. I can't get her out of my head. It's drivin' me _nuts_!" He leaned down and buried his hands in his golden hair.

Johnny'd known, in his mind, that he and Crystal were over. He'd known it since that terrible day when she'd kissed him goodbye and gone back home to her family in the Great Refuge.

But he'd always had a tiny wisp of a hope, buried deep, that by some miracle they'd get back together.

Seeing her with her lips pressed against another guy's (especially freaking  _Quicksilver's_ ) had forced him to accept that, no, that was never going to happen.

He and Crystal were over and done with. She'd moved on.

He was finding it difficult—no,  _impossible—_ to do the same.

Ever since his relationship with Crystal had ended, all those months ago, Johnny'd been plagued by memories of their first meeting.

He'd been wandering, alone, restless, through the empty streets of the city. In the pale light of dawn, he'd stumbled across a beautiful young woman in a white dress, a haunting vision of loveliness, sitting alone in a dark alley.

Her unearthly beauty had contrasted sharply with the dirt and grime that surrounded her.

At the time, Johnny'd had no idea just how unearthly she truly was.

She'd vanished before Johnny could learn her name, or that she was a member of the Inhuman royal family, so he'd thought of her only as the wingless angel for weeks.

He hadn't been able to get her out of his head then either.

When he'd learned that she had the ability to control the elements, and was every bit as powerful as he was, in terms of her personality as much as her abilities, he'd realized that he was really and truly in love.

Now the image of the lovely young girl with hair that shone like the sun haunted his dreams, his waking thoughts. The magical moment when he'd first laid eyes on her had been filled with the possibility of love and romance, and tinged perhaps even with a touch of destiny.

It had been like something out a storybook. The Inhuman princess meets the fiery knight.

But it had all fallen apart, dissolved into dust, torn to shreds by the cruel claws of time and fate. 

All of those glorious, happy moments he'd had with Crystal—he wanted to remember them all, but they were slipping through his fingers like grains of golden sand, like Crystal herself had.

"Yeah," Peter said, leaning down to pick up the photo before settling down next to Johnny again and gazing sadly at Gwen's smiling face. "Believe me, I know what that's like."

"Yeah," Johnny agreed. "I know you do." He fell back onto the bed, legs hanging over the side. "Why is it so hard to move on?"

Johnny'd been trying to do exactly that for months. 

He'd tried at first to bury himself in endless amounts of booze and loud parties and beautiful men and women. It hadn't worked.

He told himself he wasn't going to look at Crystal's picture or talk to it for a week. He'd lasted about three hours.

He'd thrown himself into rebuilding engines with an obsession, a passion, that had accomplished nothing other than worrying Sue.

Pranking _Ben_ hadn't even worked. And that was his fail-safe, always-works method for cheering himself up. 

At the end of it all, he still loved Crystal.

There was an emptiness that had taken root inside his chest that nothing could dispel. A bleeding, gaping wound where his heart had been.

He joked around a lot—especially around Peter—but he still hadn't gotten over losing Crystal. He suspected it would take a while. Some wounds just ran too deep.

Johnny just didn't know what he wanted at all. He wanted to get his mind off of Crystal, he supposed, but he had no idea how to go about accomplishing that.

The only moments when he found any sort of respite were when he was flying or behind the wheel of a race car, when he was going fast, fast, _fast_ , so fast that all of his problems and worries seemed to vanish into the trail of dust or flame he left behind him.

Peter sank down next to him on the bed, hugging the shattered picture frame to his chest. He mulled Johnny's words over for a while, staring at the ceiling, chewing his bottom lip, until he said, "I don't know. I wish there was just a button or something we could press that would make everything better."

"Yeah," Johnny agreed. His thoughts exactly. Sometimes he felt that Peter understood him better than anybody else. He just got it, where Johnny was at, what he was feeling...it made Johnny feel less alone. He hoped he did the same for Peter. "That would be nice."

Peter turned his head to look at Johnny and bumped his shoulder against Johnny's to catch his attention. Johnny glanced at him. Peter was lying so close to him, Johnny could've counted the freckles on his face, or the flecks of gold and green in his hazel eyes. "I'm glad you told me," Peter said with a tentative smile. "It means a lot. And I'm sorry she did that to you. I don't know why anyone would pick Quicksilver over you."

One corner of Johnny's lips curled up slightly. "Thanks," he said. "I don't know why anyone'd pick Quicksilver over you either."

Peter's brows contracted in a tiny frown. "What? That doesn't make _sense_ , Johnny. Nobody did."

"Don't be snarky. It's the thought that counts."

Peter let out a long-suffering sigh. "I appreciate the thought, buddy."

"Yeah," Johnny said, and turned to stare at the ceiling. Peter followed suit. 

"We're not gonna lie here all day, are we?" Johnny asked, breaking the long silence. "That's just _depressing_."

"No," he heard Peter say slowly. "I guess not."

"Whaddya wanna do? I vote you don't bother goin' in to work. I'll tell Reed you were sick. He'll buy it."

"Okay," Peter agreed. "But just this once. Don't expect me to duck work to go out and play with you all the time."

"Y'know what I like to do when I'm depressed?" Johnny asked.

"Not lie in bed, I'm guessing."

"Nope. I like to punch things. Whaddya say you put on your Spidey-suit and we go find someone to punch? There's gotta be someone mugging someone or a supervillain with a stupid plan or something somewhere. We can play rooftop tag till we find something. Winner gets to pick what movie we watch tonight."

Peter considered that for a while. "Yeah, okay," he said at last. "That actually sounds like exactly what I wanna do."

"Awesome," Johnny said. He bumped his shoulder against Peter's. "And thanks."

"No problem," Peter answered, getting up. "I'm gonna shower."

Johnny put his arms behind his head and lazily waited for Peter to come back.

* * *

"What the hell was _that_?!" Johnny shouted, rounding on Peter as soon as they got back to Peter's apartment.

"What do you mean?" Peter asked, trying to seem as cool and composed as he could, tearing off his mask and hoping to god Johnny didn't notice how badly his fingers were trembling. 

"You almost got yourself _killed_ , that's what I mean!" Johnny yelled angrily, fists clenched tightly.

"But I didn't," Peter said calmly. "Look!" He held out his arms, willing them to hold still and not tremble. "Not a scratch on me."

Johnny's mouth snapped shut. The look he leveled on Peter was cool, incisive, sharp. Peter found it unsettling. He felt as though he was laid bare—and there was no one, other than Johnny, who could make him feel that way. With the others, there were always lies aplenty to cover every truth, but with Johnny, there was _only_ the truth, unadorned and disconcerting.

"Throwing yourself off of buildings is not going to make Gwen come back. It's not going to do anything other than get you killed. Unless," Johnny said quietly, zeroing in on a truth Peter hadn't been willing to acknowledge to himself, "that's exactly what you wanted."

Peter averted his eyes. He hadn't wanted that. Had he? No, he can't've. He just...hadn't cared much either way. It didn't really make much of a difference. Somewhere in the back of his mind, there was a tiny part of him that knew there was something...not quite right about that.  

"I throw myself off of buildings every day," Peter replied, trying to throw Johnny off the scent.

But Johnny was not so easy to mislead. Say what he would about Johnny's intelligence, Peter had quickly realized that the man could be _annoyingly_ observant. "Not when both your web-shooters are busted," he pointed out.

"You caught me _and_ the girl. We're both fine."

"You seemed—you really scared me out there, buddy. Almost gave me a heart attack." Johnny looked legitimately shaken over the experience. Peter felt a pang of guilt. 

Peter had admittedly reacted intensely when the girl'd been thrown off the building. It was too similar to the moment that haunted his nightmares for Peter to remain entirely objective. Johnny, of course, had noticed.

It was probably the way Peter'd screamed, "Nooooo!" and then thrown himself off the building that had clued Johnny in. If Peter had to guess.

"Sorry about that," Peter lied. "But I knew you'd catch me." He hadn't known, hadn't stopped to think. He'd seen the girl falling, and instinct had taken over. If Johnny hadn't been there...Peter shuddered to think what would've happened. But he couldn't've lived with the knowledge that he'd failed someone else, that there was yet another name to add to the growing list of deaths he had to answer for. His own death would've been far preferable. But he knew also that he could never, ever tell Johnny any of this.

Johnny would give him that look, full of pity, compassion, worry, that Peter loathed with a passion, the look that said very plainly that whatever Peter'd just said or done was making Johnny's heart crumble into a million tiny pieces.

Johnny let out a long exhale, and crossed his arms. "I coulda caught that girl even if you hadn't jumped," he informed Peter. "There was no reason for you to put yourself in danger."

Peter scratched the back of his neck nervously. "Yeah," he said, still deflecting. "You're probably right. I just—" He shrugged. "—didn't think."

"Not thinking in this business will get you _killed_!" Johnny shouted. Peter flinched at his outburst, almost as though he'd been slapped. Johnny seemed to register the reaction, realize he was being too harsh, and dial down his anger as much as he could. He took a deep breath to steady himself. "I'm sorry for shouting, Pete. You just.  _You scared me_."

Peter was looking down at the ground and away from those intense blue eyes that saw too much. "Sorry. Again. I'll be more careful. Promise."

Johnny sighed. "You're being _reckless_. The way you drive, and now this? It's like you've got a death wish."

Peter's mouth tightened to a thin line; his shoulders grew tense. "I don't," he said. "I swear." He wasn't altogether certain that was true.

"You sure about that, kid?"

"Don't call me kid. I'm older than you."

"By like a month or two, and you didn't answer the question."

"I do  _not_  have a death wish," Peter said quietly.

Johnny didn't believe him, rightfully so. "Pete," he said gently. "Maybe you should hang up your tights for a little while."

"I can't," Peter insisted. "I've told you why. No one else dies because of me."

"I'm worried about  _you_  dying right now."

"You'd be like the only person who gives a damn," Peter said. Yeah, maybe he was being a bit melodramatic, but it's not like anything he was saying was untrue. "JJJ would probably hold a parade."

There it was. Plastered all over Johnny's face was that expression Peter absolutely _despised_. "That's not fair. Your Aunt May and MJ would definitely care. And I happen to be _very_ attached to both of them." The "and you" went unspoken, but Peter heard it anyways. 

Peter rolled his eyes. "Wow. Three whole people who care whether I live or die."

"That's more than a lot of people have. And I'm pretty sure Sue and Ben and Reed would care a lot too. So that's six."

Peter shrugged. "I guess."

Johnny sighed and scrubbed at the side of his face with his right hand. He looked tired, and more than a little scared for his friend. "Maybe you should talk to someone. Like a professional."

Peter dismissed that idea instantly. "What's the point?" he said. "Not like I could tell them the truth."

"Yeah," Johnny said, looking down at his shoes, arms folded across his chest. "I guess." He shut his eyes. "I'm worried about you. I mean, I already was, but now I'm like a billion times more worried. Please, Pete, I don't wanna wake up one morning and hear on the news that Spider-Man is dead. I couldn't—" He swallowed thickly. "I really don't know  _what_  I'd do if that happened. But it wouldn't be pretty." 

"You won't," Peter reassured him. "Promise."

Johnny nodded, face not any less drawn or worried. "I better not. Or I'm gonna be  _pissed_." 

They stood there in awkward silence for a bit, both desperately avoiding the other's gaze.

"Pete," Johnny said at long last, as though he'd just decided something. "I'm gonna hug you now, cause I think we both need it. Any objections?"

Peter fidgeted a bit. "Do you have to?"

"Yep," Johnny said firmly. "I have to."

Peter rolled his eyes and shrugged. "I guess."

"Good," Johnny said, and reached out to hook his fingers around Peter's left elbow, dragging him in for a hug.

Peter wrapped his arms around Johnny, burying his head in his shoulder, feeling a tightness that had been in chest without him realizing it loosen and fade away.

"Y'know," Johnny said, chin digging into Peter's shoulder as he spoke, "I totally hate you for making me talk about feelings twice in one day. I think that's a record for me."

Peter's arms tightened around Johnny's shoulders. "Buddy, I would be totally cool with never talking about feelings again ever." 

"So would I," Johnny said. "But with you, sometimes I have to, because you're really stupid, dude."

"Stupid?!" Peter shouted, jerking backwards, eyes flashing. "I'm a _genius_!"

Johnny's mouth twisted to the side. "About science," he corrected, looking skeptical. "You're amazingly dumb about other stuff. Stuff like, I don't know, _not dying_."

"I'm still alive, so I can't be that bad at it!" Peter snapped, pushing against Johnny's shoulders and trying to get Johnny to let go of him.

Johnny moved one hand up to cup Peter's face. Peter stopped struggling abruptly and stared at Johnny, wide-eyed, startled.

"Pete, just promise me you'll be careful from now on. No more crazy stunts," Johnny pleaded.

Peter's hands clenched around Johnny's shoulders. Johnny winced a bit—Peter was sure his fingers must be digging in painfully. He loosened his grip a bit, averted his eyes, and nodded.

"Good," Johnny said, dragging Peter's head down and pressing a soft kiss against his forehead. He let Peter go after that and said, "Your turn to pick the movie we're watchin', since you won rooftop tag," before walking off towards the couch.

Peter wrapped his arms around himself, still feeling oddly exposed and vulnerable, and followed.

* * *

"I'm worried about Peter," Johnny told MJ, putting his fork down, and staring morosely at his pizza. They were at their weekly lunch date, which they kept secret from Peter, mostly because they spent much of their time talking about him.

"He seems like he's been doing better to me," MJ said, swallowing down a bite of garlic bread. "When he smiles, it actually reaches his eyes now, sometimes. That's new. So what makes you say that, Storm?"

Johnny was going to have to lie a bit, since MJ didn't know about Peter being Spidey, but Johnny thought it was worth the risk. "He was taking pictures of me and Spidey when we stopped the Vulture from robbin' that bank. The Vulture dropped a girl off of a roof so that he'd have time to get away. Man, you shoulda heard Pete scream. It was... _scary_. And then he  _really_  gave me a heart attack, MJ. He jumped after her. I don't know what he was thinking."

There was an unmistakable look of horror in MJ's wide emerald eyes. "He jumped. After the girl. Off a building," she repeated incredulously. "Peter Parker. Nerdy, quiet, sweet Peter Parker. Jumped off a building."

"Yeah," Johnny said, nodding. "See why I'm worried?"

Admittedly it sounded worse if you didn't know that Peter was a superhero who regularly dove off buildings, but still, it was legitimately bad.

MJ sucked in a deep breath. "Whoo boy. I am reconsidering the whole he's-doing-better thing. That is. That is just  _insane_. Why would he do that?"

"I asked him. He said he 'wasn't thinking'," Johnny said, with air quotes.

"I'll say he wasn't," MJ said sharply. She rubbed a hand against her face. "Okay. So, um, what exactly do we do about this?"

Johnny shrugged, at a loss. "I've got no clue. It's why _I_ asked  _you._  But I'm afraid he's gonna hurt himself. Y'know," he snapped his fingers, "there was that time I gave him driving lessons a few weeks ago. The way he was drivin', man, MJ, looking back at it now? It was  _reckless_. Like,  _scary_  reckless. Like he had some kind of death wish or something. Bottom line: I am _really_ worried about him."

"We shouldn't leave him alone," MJ decided. "If he's not at school or at work, one of us should be with him, like at all times until we're sure he's okay. I know it'll be time-consuming, but I kinda think we have to." 

"Okay," Johnny agreed instantly. He wasn't going to complain about getting to spend more time with Peter. Especially not now that he was so worried about him. "But how do we manage that without Peter figuring out what we're doing? You know he wouldn't like this. He's too proud. He'll think we're doing it out of pity, not friendship."

MJ opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. She closed her mouth and looked pensively at her plate. "Shit," she said. "I don't know." She breathed out through her nose. "We're just gonna have to hope he won't figure it out."

"It's Peter," Johnny said. "He'll figure it out. He's pretty smart, y'know, but don't tell him I said that."

MJ face-palmed. "You have _got_ to be kidding me," she groaned.

"What?" Johnny asked, confused. 

She raised her head and leveled a cool glare at him. "You know that you and Peter both do that, right?"

"Do what?"

"Compliment each other while the other one's not around. Talk  _incessantly_  about the other one. 'Y'know,  _Johnny_  says those shoes are hideous.' ' _Peter_  doesn't like french fries. Isn't that weird?'" She clenched her hands into tight fists and gritted out, "I swear to god, if I have sit around and listen to either of you talk about the other one for hours even one more time, I am going to throw  _both_  of you out of a window."

Johnny felt the need to point out that he was perfectly capable of flying, and that being thrown out of a window wouldn't really do much more than annoy or amuse him, depending on the context. Ben had certainly done far worse in response to some of Johnny's totally hilarious pranks (and screw Ben, Johnny's pranks were _totally_ funny). But MJ seemed annoyed, so he probably should let her have her rant-y moment and not say anything.

"I can fly, you know," he informed her. 

Hey, he never said he was great at the whole self-censorship thing. 

" _Not_ the point!" she said sharply. She pinched the bridge of her nose and took a few deep breaths to steady herself. "Look," she continued, more calmly this time, "just please,  _please_  for the sake of my sanity, date him already? I can't take this dancing around each other you two are doing right now for one more second." 

Johnny was staring at her open-mouthed. His jaw snapped shut and he glanced down at his half-eaten pizza. "I, uh—MJ," he confessed, "I honestly don't know if I want to date him."

"You're kidding, right?" MJ said. "The amount of sexual tension between you two—people can probably see it from outer space."

"How much does that really matter? I just," he shrugged, "don't know how important that is. Pete doesn't really need a boyfriend right now—he needs a friend. Someone he can always count on to help him if he needs it, 'cause we both know he needs it a lot. And yeah, he's got you too now, but, c'mon, MJ, Peter needs me in a way that's different from how he needs you and you know it. I don't want to risk not being able to be there for him when he needed me because things didn't work out between us. You know that things between him and me would just get messy and complicated. We're both a bit messed up right now." He looked down at his hands and shrugged half-heartedly. "I think it's better if things stay like they are. At least for now."

"That is such _bullshit_ , Storm," MJ snapped. "For one thing, what about what _you_ need? You like taking care of him, an idiot could see that. And he likes having someone around to show him affection and, like, be his friend, because god knows he's kind of starved for it. You two just _work_ together. You have a..." She waved her fork around, a piece of pasta speared on its end. "... _spark_. It would be _such_ a shame to see that go to waste."

"We don't have a spark. We just argue a lot."

MJ looked at the ceiling again and swore under her breath. "Okay, I'm gonna tell you something, but don't tell Peter I said this. And there I go, doing the annoying thing I was just complaining about."

Johnny squinted warily at her.

MJ let out an annoyed huff of air through her nose. "Y'know how I keep saying he's gotten better because he started working at the Baxter Building?"

Johnny gave her a small, curt nod.

"Well, I think that's not exactly true. He hasn't gotten better because of his internship, he's gotten better because of  _you._ How he feels about you, to be more specific."

Johnny stared at her blankly for a bit, and then laughed incredulously. "MJ, I really don't think that's true. He likes me as a friend and all, but—" He shook his head. "—just  _no_."

MJ rolled her eyes and stuck the pasta in her mouth. "Boys. You're both idiots," she informed him as she chewed.

"No," Johnny countered, crossing his arms and tilting his chin up stubbornly. "This is just the way it has to be."

She shrugged. "Suit yourself, Flamebrain."

Johnny made a face. "I wish Peter hadn't told you about that nickname. It's kind of irritating."

"Well, so are you, so it's fitting."

"Hey!" Johnny said indignantly, pointing a finger at her angrily. "I resent that!"

MJ smiled at him, and it was all teeth. "You wanna try to do something about it, kid?"

Johnny instantly backed down and slid down in his chair. "No," he said mildly. "You're a little scary sometimes, princess, has anyone ever told you that?"

She shrugged. "A family like mine, you learn to take care of yourself, Fireboy. Not that a rich kid like you would know. You've had it easy your whole life."

Johnny pushed a piece of pepperoni around on his plate with a fork. "I haven't had it  _that_  easy," he murmured. Not that he blamed MJ for thinking that. Details about his parents and their untimely demises were typically kept out of the papers. He raised his head to look at MJ. "How come I don't get a cute nickname like Peter's?" he asked, diverting the conversation away from their childhoods.

"I like him more than I like you?" MJ suggested.

"But you like me a little, or you wouldn't be having lunch with me."

MJ arched an eyebrow. "You keep telling yourself that, Flamebrain."

Johnny narrowed his eyes at her. "One of these days, I'm gonna make you admit you actually think of me as a friend."

"Dream on, Storm," MJ said coolly.

* * *

Peter was having an especially bad morning.

Hell, who was he kidding. He was having a bad  _year_.

This specific morning had been one annoyance after another. He'd woken up late, only to realize that he was out of toothpaste, cereal, milk, and well, everything. When he'd gone to his closet, it'd been empty, his dirty-clothes hamper overflowing. Then the subway he took to get to the Baxter Building had been unusually crowded. He didn’t know why; he only knew that it was so, so annoying. He’d spent the entire trip with someone’s elbow sticking into his side, fighting off the feeling that he’d been turned into a sardine and stuck into a mobile tin can.

Finally, finally, he got off the bus, feeling he could breathe freely for the first time in hours, and made it to the Baxter Building. When he rounded the final corner to Professor Richards’ lab, he stopped dead in his tracks.

Johnny was leaning near the doorway, eyes shut, two steaming white coffee cups in his hands.

He cracked one eye open just enough to double-check that it was Peter’s footsteps he’d heard, and then shut it again.

Peter felt a rush of warmth, bright as sunlight, pour through his veins.

It was unfair, totally unfair and frustrating and awful that Johnny somehow managed to look so  _good_  when all he was wearing was a weathered pair of jeans, a faded  _Star Wars_ t-shirt (Johnny's favorite—he wore it all the time, and words could not express how much Peter loved that) that had definitely seen better days, and a battered leather jacket.

To make matters worse, there wasn't a doubt in Peter's mind that Johnny’d slapped that outfit together in all of two sleepy seconds and done nothing more than comb his hand through his hair haphazardly.

Admittedly, sometimes Johnny wore these flashy, garish outfits that made Peter seriously question his fashion sense...and sanity.

Peter’s eyes settled onto the two coffee cups Johnny was holding. He recognized the sleeves as being from that coffee shop—Firefly, or something—he’d mentioned liking to Johnny yesterday. Right before he complained about how he never had time to buy any coffee before he got to work.

One corner of Peter's mouth curved up as he strolled over to Johnny.

"Hey, Flamebrain," he said, leaning next to Johnny, hands stuck in his lab coat's pockets, shivering a bit as the cold from the wall seeped through his clothes. "What're you doing here?"

Johnny stuck his left hand out and shoved one of the coffee cups under Peter's nose. 

"What?" Peter asked, glancing down at the coffee with a frown. "Are you taunting me with the fact that you have two coffees when I obviously don't have any? Two's a bit much don't you think, Hothead?"

Johnny opened one eye just enough to glare at him. 

"Use your words, Johnny," Peter said, smothering a laugh. The coffee smelled delicious. Peter's mouth watered as he and his sleep-deprived brain both wished that he had some. "Not that your eyes aren't pretty expressive in their own."

"Too early for words," Johnny grumbled. "How do you all do..." He waved his hand around, apparently too sleepy to latch onto the right word. "... _this_?"

"What this?" Peter asked, baffled.

"Um..." Johnny frowned, looking as though he were trying to get his brain to work enough to provide the words he was searching for. "Get up early?" he said at last.

"Johnny," Peter said dryly, "it's nine in the morning."

"Yeah," Johnny said grumpily, with a small dismissive wave of his hand. "Early. Like I said. Ugh. I hate mornings. So much. Mornings should be illegal."

"I don't exactly like mornings either, Storm, but outlawing like half the day is a bit much."

Johnny disagreed. "Nope," he said, shutting his eyes and leaning his head back against the wall. "Mornings are evil. Maybe slightly below Galactus. But only slightly."

Peter scooted closer, examining Johnny's face intently. "Should've guessed you hated mornings. You look  _awful_ , Fireboy. My god. I think there are actual circles under your eyes. Never thought I'd see the day you'd let yourself go like this."

That got Johnny's eyes _wide_ open. He stiffened, and glared at Peter. "Screw you, Bugboy. I never look awful. I'm super hot and perfect-looking all the time. Never believe anyone who says otherwise, because they are liars."

"You keep tellin' yourself that, Flamebrain," Peter scoffed. "Whatever helps you get through the day."

"Keep it up and I'm drinking your coffee," Johnny threatened.

Johnny's presence this early in the morning, the two coffee cups from a coffee shop Peter'd mentioned liking...oh my _god_. Peter's head snapped over, eyes wide with shock, to peer into Johnny's face as he finally put two and two together. "You got up early to buy me coffee?" he asked, surprised.

Johnny just had this _knack_ for doing things for Peter that were unimaginably sweet and touching, and sure to make Peter's heart melt into a tiny puddle.

He'd seemed to be doing it more and more often ever since the whole jumping-off-the-building incident. Peter suspected he might be doing it on purpose to cheer Peter up or something.

"Don't make a big deal out of it," Johnny said dismissively, handing Peter his coffee. "I had to get up early anyways."

Peter took the coffee and stared at it for a brief moment as though Johnny'd handed him something extraordinarily priceless. Collecting himself rapidly, he crossed his arms. "Uh-huh. To do what, exactly?"

"Buy stuff," Johnny said evasively.

"Like coffee?"

Johnny rolled his eyes. "No. Other stuff," he said testily. "That had nothing to do with you."

"Right."

"I mean it."

"Mm-hmm."

"Whatever. I'm leaving," Johnny said as he pushed off of the wall and started heading towards his garage. 

"Yeah, okay. Thanks for the coffee, which you absolutely did not get up early to get specifically for me," Peter called after him. 

Johnny stiffened and broke his stride. He whirled around and marched back towards Peter, glaring daggers. "You are the  _worst_!" he snapped, fists clenched. "See if I do anything nice for you ever again."

"I  _said_  thank you!" Peter said defensively.

"Mockingly," Johnny said, pointing accusingly at Peter. "You were  _mocking_  me."

"No, I was  _thanking_  you," Peter said sincerely. "It was genuinely very sweet of you to have done this for me. I totally appreciate it. I've had an awful morning, and this just made me feel so much better."

Johnny's cheeks flushed. " _Don't_  make a big deal out of it. I  _told_  you not to make a big deal out of it."

"I'm not!" Peter protested. " _You_  are. Why won't you just admit that you got up early to do something nice for your friend?"

"Fine," Johnny said sharply. "I got up early to buy you coffee. Happy now?"

"Aw," Peter cooed, pressing both hands to his chest and sniffling. "You like me, you really like me! I am going to keep this coffee cup and have it framed or something to mark this momentous occasion!"

Johnny was staring at him, eyes flat and unamused, arms crossed. "The  _worst_. Told you. This is _exactly_ why I didn't want to tell you."

"I really  _am_  grateful."

Johnny's cheeks took on that subtle hint of pink again. "Whatever. You're still the worst."

Peter pouted and gave Johnny his best sad puppy dog eyes.

Johnny relented instantly. "Okay. Maybe not the  _absolute_  worst, but you are  _close_ , mister."

Peter's lips twitched. "Aw," he teased. "Coming from you, that's practically a marriage proposal."

Johnny's eyes narrowed. "Nope," he said, irked. "I've decided I was wrong. You're definitely the absolute worst. You know what? It's too early to banter with you. I am totally going back to bed."

"Lucky," Peter said enviously, thinking back to the barely three hours of sleep he'd gotten the night before. Although, frankly, that was par for the course for him—he rarely managed to sleep more than that.

Johnny smirked at him. "Well, I'd invite you to join me, but I figure you'll probably say no."

"Right. I have work."

Johnny cocked his head and squinted. " _That's_  why you'd say no?"

Realizing what he'd just implied, Peter blushed. "Oh," he said awkwardly. "Uh, you know what I mean."

One corner of Johnny's mouth quirked upwards. "Yeah, pal, I know. Sorry, just teasin'."

Peter shook his head. "No, um, it's fine."

Things got a bit awkward. Johnny scratched the back of his head nervously. "Yeah, uh, well, I'm just gonna," he pointed towards the elevator, "gonna go."

"Right," Peter said, sounding relieved. "See you later, pal."

"Yeah," Johnny said as he fled towards the elevator, walking as quickly as he could.

* * *

Before he reached the elevator, Johnny's step faltered. He hesitated briefly and whirled around. He found that Peter was still watching him. "Oh," he said, surprised, "I would've thought you'd've gone by now."

"Drinking my coffee," Peter explained, holding up the cup with an adorably dorky smile.

"Yeah, whatever, dude," Johnny said dismissively, deliberately ignoring the warm fuzzy feeling Peter's smile elicited. "So, um, I was gonna ask if you wanted to hang when you're done with your, uh," he waggled his fingers as he tried to call the correct phrase to mind, "...little Reed thing."

"You mean my very cool internship?" Peter said, a tad offended.

"Yeah," Johnny said, snapping his fingers and pointing, "that would be the one. So sue me, it's early. My brain is not fully operational at these hours."

"Your brain is never fully operational. And yes, sure."

"Cool," Johnny said with a pleased grin, strategically choosing to ignore the insult. "I'll come get you when you're done."

"I'm done at three, just FYI. Not two-thirty or two-forty-five."

"I totally knew that," Johnny said, unconvincingly.

"Sure you did, buddy. That's why Reed's thrown you out of his lab like every day since I started here."

Johnny opened his mouth to argue, but changed his mind. "You know what? Not arguing. My bed is calling. I can sense it."

Peter snorted. "Tell it to hang up."

"What? No, dude! You do not say no to your bed. That might make it angry."

"Just checking, cause it's you, you do know your bed isn't actually alive, right?"

Johnny shot him a look. "Reed kinda made it, so I wouldn't be too sure of that, Spidey."

Peter's eyes widened, whether with delight or horror, Johnny really couldn't tell. Which was a little bit unsettling, to be honest.

Johnny shrugged as though it wasn't a big deal that he lived in a place where sentient beds were within the realm of possibility. "Reed's kinda crazy."

"Yeah," Peter said, smiling fondly. "He's kinda awesome." 

Johnny just stared at him, a little horrified. It had definitely been delight.

"What?" Peter said.

"Oh my god. I just realized. You're one too."

"One what?"

"Mad scientist."

Peter took a sip of coffee. "Maybe a little," he said casually. "I designed my web-shooters, y'know. When I was fifteen. And my costume. And my webfluid. Although I've been tinkering with the formula for years."

Johnny's mouth twisted to one side. "Why do I think it's totally cute when it's you bragging about your inventions, but kinda irritating when it's Reed?"

"Cause I'm totally adorable. Obviously."

Johnny shook his head, smiling affectionately. "You are  _such_  a dork. Nah, I think it's probably cause you don't try to lecture me on stuff like astrophysics, when I don't know anything about astrophysics. For hours." He sighed exasperatedly. "Reed's awesome and everything, but he can kinda drone on annoyingly long sometimes. I swear to God, one time he started explaining to Ben and me how one of his experiments was going, and me and Ben, we snuck off, went out to eat, went to a movie, and when we came back, he was still talking, hadn't even noticed we left. Me and Ben laughed at him for _days_ over that one."

"I think what he says is totally fascinating," Peter offered.

"Well, yeah, cause you're just as brainy as he is, and you get what he's saying."

Peter shrugged. "Yeah, I guess."

Johnny squinted. "Also, y'know, your costume makes _so_ much more sense now."

Peter's expression turned indignant. "What's that supposed to mean?" he huffed.

"Nothing," Johnny said quickly. "I didn't mean anything."

"Better than you and your hideous red-and-yellow costume. What happened to the blue? The blue was a nice color."

"It's in honor of the original Human Torch," Johnny said defensively. "And at least it's not awful like yours," he added under his breath.

Peter's mouth dropped open. "I not only heard that," he said, outraged, "I resent it. So much. People _love_ my costume. It's _iconic_."

"It's also very tight."

"And yours isn't?"

"Well, yeah, but I have the bod to pull it off. You, my friend, do not."

"I have a _lot_ of muscles!"

"Tiny ones."

"They are not! I have  _abs_! A  _six-pack_!"

"Nope," Johnny said. "Don't believe you. Guess you're just gonna have to prove it."

Peter's eyes narrowed as he realized what Johnny was up to. "I see what you just did," he informed Johnny. "This all a giant con to get me to take my shirt off, isn't it?"

"Damn," Johnny said, snapping his fingers. "You caught me."

"Didn't think you were smart enough for that," Peter said, tilting his head.

"People tend to underestimate my intelligence," Johnny shrugged. "I use it to my advantage."

Peter squinted at him and then looked down at his coffee. He froze and his eyes widened as he remembered something. "Uh, Johnny," he said, brow creasing in a slight frown, "is this a date?"

"What?!" Johnny asked, startled. "What makes you think it's a date?"

Peter shrugged. "You said coffee was a date thing. And now I've just discovered that you're capable of being sneaky. Which I did not know before now."

"Oh," Johnny said. "Yeah. I guess did say that. But I wasn't trying to be sneaky." His tilted his head at Peter. "Why are you asking? Do you want it to be a date?"

"No," Peter said immediately. "I just wanted to make sure you didn't think so."

"Well, I don't," Johnny said. "So you don't have to worry."

"Well, okay then," Peter replied. "We're agreed then."

"Yeah," Johnny said. And if he felt a tiny bit disappointed, he definitely didn't mention that to Peter.

* * *

Johnny literally bumped into Sue when he was rounding a corner on the way back to his bedroom.

"Johnny?" Sue said, blue eyes wide with shock. "You're awake."

"Yeah?" Johnny said with an indifferent shrug. "So?"

"It's nine in the morning."

"Yes, sis, it is," Johnny said slowly. "I know what time it is, thanks. Why is that shocking?"

"But you're a teenager, and you're _you_."

"Your point being?"

Sue crossed her arms. "Okay. What kind of trouble are you in this time?"

"What?" Johnny asked, flummoxed. "I'm not in trouble!"

"Don't lie to me, bro!" Sue snapped. "I'm not an idiot."

Johnny held up the hand that wasn't holding coffee. "I swear! No trouble."

Sue's eyes narrowed. "Then you must have a new girlfriend. If she's making you wake up early, she's not going to last long. We all remember why you broke up with Kiki. How did you put it? 'She's a  _morning person_ , Sue. I can't date anyone who expects me to be up before noon.'"

Her imitation of her younger brother was shockingly accurate.

Johnny let out an annoyed huff. "First of all, I do not sound like that, although I admit that I may have said that. Second, I definitely, _definitely_ do not have a new girlfriend. Look, I'm sleepy and going to bed. Night—er, morning, sis."

"Johnny—" Sue began, but Johnny quickly sidestepped her and made it into his bedroom before she could finish. He loudly locked his door, and waited until Sue's footsteps eventually faded away before he breathed freely.

That was gonna be a problem. That he would deal with later. Soon as he got some more sleep...

* * *

"So," Johnny told Peter when they were at dinner later that day, "we should do something fun this Friday."

Peter put his menu down. "Got something specific in mind?"

"Yep," Johnny said, straight-faced. "We, my friend, are gonna steal the Statue of Liberty." 

Peter snorted. "No," he said. "No way. We'd have to find a new super-secret meeting place then. That would totally be annoying. Also, I don't want the Statue of Liberty. Where would I even put it? It wouldn't fit in my apartment. Nope." He shook his head. "Too much of a hassle."

"Party pooper," Johnny said, lips twitching. "You, pal, are a major party-pooper."

"I have been told this before," Peter said. "But words hurt, you know," he added, voice cracking as he pretended to be upset.

"I have many more if you want to hear them."

"Pass," Peter said, scrunching up his nose. "And I don't believe you actually know that many more words."

"Ouch. That one totally hurt, bro," Johnny sniffed. "But at least I'm pretty, which you, pal, _ain't_."

"You totally think I'm pretty. Don't lie to me, Storm. You aren't very good at it."

"Hah! That is what _you_ think! I have _totally_ lied to you before and you didn't notice!"

"Oh really," Peter said innocently, tilting his head. "'Bout what?"

"Well, there was that time—" Johnny stopped abruptly, and narrowed his eyes. "Ha ha ha. Nice one. But no, I am not that stupid."

"Damn," Peter said, snapping his fingers. "I was sure you were. I guess you aren't as dumb as you look. I mean, it's close, don't get me wrong, but, meh."

Johnny was staring at him, expression flat and unamused, arms folded across his chest.

Peter smiled at him winningly.

Johnny narrowed his eyes at him in response. "Thin ice, pal, thin ice."

"Oh, I'm so scared," Peter said sarcastically. "What're you gonna do, glare me to death?"

Johnny's eyes widened. "Ooo. Is that a thing we can do? We should figure out how to do that. New science project?" he asked hopefully.

"You want me to develop something that'll let you _glare_ people to death?" Peter asked incredulously.

Johnny nodded earnestly. "Well, y'know, just the really annoying ones. And I'd be fine just shunting them off to the Negative Zone or something."

Peter snorted and shook his head. "No. Funny, but no."

"You're so lame!" Johnny groaned. "I come up with all of these awesome, genius ideas, and you just ignore them."

"I will not be a party to mass teleportation to the Negative Zone!" Peter shouted playfully, slapping his hand against the table and pointing accusingly at Johnny.

"Well, we can bring them back eventually," Johnny offered, unfazed. "Once I'm, y'know, not mad at them anymore."

"Given that I'm probably the one who would get sent there the most, my answer's still no."

Johnny stuck out his tongue. "You ruin all my fun."

"It's what I live for, Torchy," Peter said, bowing his head down to inspect the menu. "So," he asked after deciding he was going to get the BBQ baby-back ribs, "where are we _really_ going on Friday, or is it a surprise?"

Johnny looked up at him, startled, and then his eyes darted off to the side. "Yeah. Let's say it's a surprise."

That was suspicious. Peter stared at him flatly for a few moments. "You have no idea where we're going, do you?"

"Not a clue," Johnny admitted.

Peter buried his face in his hands. "You're the  _worst_ , Storm!" he groaned.

"Don't worry," Johnny said reassuringly. "I'll come up with a million things by Friday. I am all about spontaneity and livin' in the moment and all that jazz. Except actual jazz, which is totally lame."

"Friday's like two days from now," Peter said sharply. "Better think fast, Flameboy."

"Chill, Bugboy. It'll happen."

"Oh, for god's sake, Johnny! I've told you a  _million_   _times_! Spiders are  _arachnids_ , not insects."

"I know," Johnny said. He shrugged. "It's cute when you get mad."

"I am _not_ cute when I'm mad," Peter huffed. "I'm...ferocious," he mused, eyes sliding off to the side, "like a tiger. A Spider-Tiger."

Johnny raised his eyebrows at Peter coolly, then glanced down at his menu. "Noooo, you're not adorable at all," he muttered under his breath.

Peter scowled. "Screw you, I am totally ferocious." 

"Yeah," Johnny said tonelessly, still looking at his menu and clearly humoring Peter. "You are so ferocious, it's terrifying. Really."

"Damn straight," Peter said, choosing to ignore Johnny's obvious lies, crossing his arms and tilting his chin up stubbornly.

* * *

When the waiter came, Peter ordered his ribs, while Johnny ordered a steak with potatoes, chicken strips and a ceasar salad, and a hamburger with mashed potatoes (which Peter found odd, since Johnny _loved_ french fries. _Peter_ was the one who didn't). 

Peter was a bit surprised. That was _a lot_ of food. Johnny normally did  _not_ eat that much. Too busy worrying about his weight.

Johnny dutifully ate the steak and potatoes.

After Peter wolfed down his own food, he wound up eating Johnny's chicken strips and salad (after Johnny surreptitiously nudged them towards him), and snagged Johnny's hamburger when Johnny made a quick trip to the restroom.

When Johnny came back, he flicked his eyes at all of the empty plates and arched a mildly amused eyebrow at a Peter who was valiantly trying to pretend that he had no idea where Johnny's hamburger and potatoes had vanished to.

Peter had the sinking feeling that Johnny'd known all along that it was Peter who was going to wind up eating all of that food.

Johnny, that wily bastard, didn't say a word about it. Just sat down casually, picked up the dessert menu, and ordered a slice of German chocolate cake, an ice cream sundae, and a root beer float for dessert.

When Johnny looked away for a moment to check his phone, Peter snagged his cake and was about half done with it by the time Johnny turned back.

While Johnny asked the waiter for more soda, Peter practically inhaled his ice cream.

Johnny actually managed to eat some of the root beer float, but Peter was the one who got to finish it.

It was kind of fun, stealing Johnny's food when he wasn't looking. Peter was about 90% positive that Johnny was _letting_ him do it, judging by the look of vague amusement Peter saw on his face every time he turned around and caught Peter eating his food.

It was fun anyways. Like a battle of wits, where Peter always won, probably cause he was so much smarter than Johnny.

* * *

"Where do you want me to drop you?" Johnny asked as they were getting into his very fancy red convertible after their dinner date (that most definitely wasn't actually a date). 

"Grocery store by my place," Peter sighed as he buckled himself in. "I gotta buy food. Cupboards are bare. Fridge empty. _And_ I still have to do laundry." He slouched down in the car seat, arms crossed, sulking. "I hate laundry. It's so _boring_ doing laundry by yourself. My Aunt May used to bake me cookies when I did the laundry."

Johnny shrugged, starting the car. "I'll keep you company if you want, dude. I'll even make you cookies." He promised MJ he'd keep Peter company as much as possible, after all. And he didn't actually _mind_ baking cookies. Baking and cooking were two things he was legitimately good at.

Peter turned and stared at him blankly. "My Aunt May used to bake me _good_ cookies when I did the laundry," he said after a beat.

"Screw you, Webhead, I can bake cookies."

"But can you bake _good_ ones, is the question."

"Yeah, jerk, I can!"

"I'll believe it when I see it."

"Prepare to believe it then, cause I am making you awesome chocolate chip cookies."

Peter squinted at him. "You sure, Johnny? You don't have to."

"I got nothin' better to do," Johnny shrugged. There were some new video games he wanted to play, but he'd rather hang out with Pete.

"Okay," Peter said, turning his head away. Johnny suspected it was to hide a pleased smile. "If you're sure."

"Yeah," Johnny said. "But just to warn ya, I'm gonna make sure you buy actual food, and not just like Cheetos and fruit pies like you normally do."

Peter gasped in mock-horror, clapping his hands to his mouth. "You mean you're actually gonna make me buy—" He paused for dramatic emphasis. "— _vegetables_?"

"Yes, I mean you have to buy vegetables."

"You _monster_!" Peter said.

Johnny shot him a look. "Junk food's fine sometimes, but honestly, Pete, way you eat? You'll be dead by the time you're thirty of like a heart attack or something."

Okay, so maybe Johnny paid a bit more attention to Sue's healthy-eating lectures than he liked to pretend.

He liked eating junk food as much as any other teenager, but Peter's eating habits were singularly atrocious. _Sue'd_ be the one having the heart attack if she ever found out even the tiniest detail about them.

Johnny himself had been _horrified_ when he'd poked through Peter's cupboards and refrigerator while looking for snacks. Judging by what he saw, Peter seemed to live off a combination of hot dogs, fruit pies, Cheetos, pop tarts, hot pockets, soda, popcorn, and peanut butter (which he must eat directly out of the jar, given that Johnny couldn't find any bread or jam anywhere). Johnny had no idea how he hadn't developed diabetes or scurvy or something.

Last week he'd searched through Peter's food stocks and all he'd found had been one, pitiful, moldy piece of cheese. 

So frankly he was glad at having an excuse to buy as much food for Peter as he could. He would've offered to do it before now, but he couldn't think of a way to without offending Peter.

Peter blamed his general lack of food on being a destitute college student with an annoyingly high metabolism, thanks to his always irritating spider-powers. 

It was why Johnny always made a point of ordering take-out whenever he went over to Peter's now. He'd noticed a while ago that Peter wouldn't go out of his way to make or buy his own food (out of a combination of being too tired, busy, and poor), but he'd sure as hell eat  _anything_  that was put in front of him.

Johnny was routinely horrified and fascinated by the amount Peter could eat in one sitting.

When they went out to eat, Johnny was careful to order more than he could possibly eat, because somewhere along the way, Peter'd developed the bad habit of eating  _at least_  half of Johnny's food—and Johnny counted himself lucky if Peter bothered to ask first (most of the time he didn't). 

After seeing what Peter typically survived off of, Johnny didn't even get angry at him for it anymore. He was mostly just secretly glad that Peter was eating something other than Cheetos. 

"Healing factor," Peter replied. "I'll be fine. Besides, if I was gonna die before thirty, I think it'd probably be more likely to be the Green Goblin or someone who kills me."

Johnny frowned. "I thought you said he was dead?"

Peter shrugged indifferently. "Supervillains. When do they ever actually stay dead?"

"You really think he's still alive?" Johnny said, voice suddenly tense, knuckles turning white from where he was gripping the steering wheel too tightly.

"Maybe," Peter said, eyes flicking away from Johnny's hands. "Maybe not."

Johnny's face was grim. "If he's alive, I want you to tell me right away. You shouldn't be going up against him alone."

Peter shrugged noncommittally. 

"Pete," Johnny said, "I'm serious. You need to promise you'll tell me."

"Fine," Peter said testily. "If, on the slim chance he's somehow still alive, and I find out, I will tell you the minute I can."

"Minute you _know_ , buddy," Johnny corrected. "Too many ways for you to argue there wasn't enough time to tell me."

"What do you expect me to do?" Peter asked, throwing up his hands in exasperation. "Tell the Green Goblin I need a time out from getting burning jack-o-lanterns thrown at my head so I can call the Human Torch for back-up?"

"Just...call me, Pete," Johnny said wearily. "You don't have to fight him alone. You've got me now."

Peter turned his face away and watched the cars pass by. "Yeah," he said distantly. "I guess."

* * *

When Johnny caught Peter sneaking into the potato chip aisle, he unceremoniously grabbed him by his shirt collar and dragged him away.

"Aw, c'mon, Johnny! Just one bag?" Peter pleaded as he skidded away, making grabby hands at the aisle.

"Maybe later," Johnny said, hauling Peter to the produce section. "Now, what do you like more, spinach or mixed greens?"

Peter looked like he was absolutely revolted by the mere prospect of being asked to eat either. "I like Cheetos."

"Mixed greens it is!" Johnny declared, grabbing a bag and tossing it into the cart while pointedly ignoring Peter.

Peter eyed the copious amounts of food in the grocery cart Johnny was pushing around. "You know I can't actually afford all of that food, right? Not unless JJJ and your brother-in-law give me one hell of a raise."

"Don't worry," Johnny reassured him. "I'm paying."

Peter raised his eyebrows. "Johnny," he said, "you can't just pay for everything all the time. It's kind of mortifying."

Johnny was busy picking out oranges and dropping them into a plastic bag. "You don't have money and you kinda need food, Pete," he said stubbornly, not looking up, "and I'm your friend and I have money. So I don't really care if you think it's embarrassing. Suck it up, buddy."

Peter rolled his eyes. "How do you manage to be really nice but a total jerk about it?"

Johnny shrugged, twisting the bag shut and tossing it into the cart. "Call it a talent."

"This doesn't solve the overall problem of me not having money. I mean, unless you plan on buying me groceries every week."

Johnny shoulder hitched up in a half-shrug. "Okay."

Peter frowned, confused. "Okay what?"

"Okay, I'll buy you groceries every week."

"Johnny, no. I appreciate the sentiment, but no. I'll work things out on my own."

"You can go grocery shopping with me to pay me back. I hate grocery shopping alone anyways."

"Johnny, I can't let you buy me food all of the time. I can afford some things."

"You can afford fruit pies and Cheetos. Which will kill you."

Peter shrugged. "Yeah, but they're filling. Fruits and vegetables are kinda pricey, and they don't fill you up."

"See? I can totally afford the good stuff. This might also be 'cause I've been spending a lot of time at your place, and I'm getting tired having to eat all of the junk you call food. I mean, junk food's fine every now and then, but, like, you have to eat actual food _occasionally_."

"Ah," Peter breathed. "Now this all makes sense. I knew there must be a selfish motive mixed in there somewhere."

The corners of Johnny's mouth tilted upwards. "Well, it is me, after all. But seriously, Pete, let me buy you food. As a favor to me and everyone who has to hang out at your place."

"Johnny, I don't know. I'd feel like I was taking charity from you. Or that I like owed you something."

Johnny clapped a hand on his shoulder. "It isn't charity, it's doing me a favor, pal. And you wouldn't owe me a thing."

"You buying groceries for me is a favor to you?" Peter asked skeptically. "That is some twisted logic there, Storm."

Johnny shrugged. "Makes sense to me. C'mon, let me buy you food. Please?"

Peter looked uncertain. "I dunno, Storm. I would feel kinda bad."

"C'mon," Johnny said. "If I don't spend that money on you, I'll just spend it on jeans or something stupid like that. Might as well spend it on something worthwhile."

Peter chewed his lower lip. "I—I'll think about it, how about that?"

Johnny sighed, disappointed. "Alright, if you have to."

* * *

Peter watched Johnny expertly navigate around the grocery store with some surprise. "So," he ventured, "do you normally do the grocery shopping for the FF?"

"Yeah," Johnny said, snagging a bag of sugar and plopping it into the already overflowing cart. "Sue can't really cook, like, believe me, keep her away from anything resembling a stove if you value your life. She was too busy raising me and earning money and everything to really have time for it. It's why I figured out how to cook. It was basically cook or starve when Sue was working late. As for Reed, well, he's just busy science-ing, and always forgets to buy food, even though he _can_ cook when he wants to. Ben...doesn't like grocery shopping. People stare," he confided.

"Oh," Peter said, surprise deepening. "So you cook too?"

"Yeah," Johnny said like it wasn't a big deal at all. "I happen to be a terrific cook."

"Really," Peter said, sounding like he didn't believe him. "You'll have to cook for me sometime. I'll start preparing myself mentally for a trip to the emergency room."

"I think you're confusing me with Sue, in that the FF have actually had to have our stomachs pumped because of her cooking. It was Thanksgiving, so of course monsters attacked, and we were all laid up in the hospital. It wasn't pretty. My cooking's _much_ better than that." 

Peter raised an eyebrow. "I'll believe it when I seen it."

"Oh, you'll see it," Johnny said. "Romantic candlelight dinner for two, maybe? If so, buddy, I'm in. Long as I get lucky at the end of the night."

"Not even _remotely_ what I meant!" Peter snapped. "Now I'm gonna make sure to invite MJ if you ever cook for me. Just so you don't get any ideas."

Johnny snorted. "MJ being there doesn't exactly keep me from flirting with you."

"No, but it means you won't try anything."

"Please, Pete, I'd never do anything you didn't want me to. I've told you a billion times. All you gotta do is say stop, and I'll stop."

"Stop telling me I can't buy Cheetos," Peter said, unable to hide his smugness at knowing he'd just outmaneuvered Johnny.

Johnny tossed him an exasperated look. "Fine," he said. "But I won't pay for it. I'm not enabling you."

"I can afford a bag of Cheetos, Johnny," Peter said dryly.

"Do what you want," Johnny shrugged, attention focused on picking out a brand of chocolate chips.

"Passive-Aggressive Johnny. This is new. Coming right on the heels of Sneaky Johnny, too. You just keep unfolding like a flower. A beautiful red-and-yellow flower."

"I'm not being passive aggressive, I'm just disappointed that you would wanna eat something so bad for you. And stop comparing me to flowers. It's creepy and weird."

"Yeah," Peter said flatly. "That wasn't passive aggressive at all."

Johnny whacked him with a bag of chocolate chips.

Peter wondered idly if he should point out the hypocrisy of preventing him from eating Cheetos because they were bad for him while baking him dozens of delicious, gooey chocolate chip cookies.

But he wanted cookies, damn it, more than he wanted to make fun of Johnny's logical failings, so he decided against it.

* * *

He didn't buy the Cheetos.

The proud smile Johnny gave him was worth it, although Peter made a big show of rolling his eyes at him.

It was okay. He could just go buy some later, after Johnny left.

* * *

"You got an apron, Pete?" Johnny asked, poking through Peter's kitchen drawers and cupboards. "My jeans probably cost more than your monthly rent."

"Aunt May keeps one of her aprons in the second drawer to the left," Peter said, leaning in the doorway and pointing. Johnny had categorically forbidden him from entering the kitchen while he baked after catching him popping some chocolate chips into his mouth.

Johnny tugged the drawer Peter was pointing at open. "Just to warn you, though," Peter said, "it's a bit—" Johnny pulled out a pink frilly apron. "—frilly."

Johnny stared at the apron speechlessly and then over at Peter. He looked up at the ceiling and let out a long breath, shutting his eyes. "I hate you," he informed Peter. Then he glanced back at the apron, shrugged, and started putting it on. "But whatever. I'll live. It's not like I've never worn a frilly apron before, I guess. Also, I was wearing a dress at the time, and I'm not this time, so...improvement? Or not, depending on your fashion sense."

"Whoa," Peter said. Johnny saw Peter's head snap up out of the corner of his eye as he tied the apron strings. "Hold on, back up! You've worn a _dress_? When?"

Johnny shrugged and turned to pull bowls out of the cupboards, arranging them next to the pile of ingredients he had scattered across Peter's countertops. "Ben tricked me into wearing one. Said we were going to a costume party where you had to wear a genderbent costume. He  _might_ have done it because I _may_ have conned him into wearing a tutu a few days earlier. Totally worth it, and I looked _awesome_. But then again, when don't I?" He shot Peter a very self-satisfied smile.

"What kind of dress was it?" Peter asked after a long silence.

Johnny stopped measuring out the flour, and turned to look at Peter with a baffled frown. "Why does it matter?"

Peter shrugged and looked away, barest hint of a flush rising up his cheeks. "Doesn't, I guess. But I figure Ben would've tricked you into something hilarious."

That didn't quite have the ring of truth to it. Johnny raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms, leaning back against the counter. "Might've been a French maid's outfit," he said, tilting his head and studying Peter intently.

Peter froze, wide eyes darting to Johnny's face. "The black ones with like the frilly aprons and really short skirts?"

Johnny nodded, smirking. "Hell _yes_. I looked  _hot,_ let me tell you. Kinda a shame I didn't get to go to any parties dressed like that, really. The public deserves more pictures of me in hot outfits."

Peter gulped audibly and looked away again, cheeks still flushed. "Oh," he said. He bit his lip. "Please tell me there are at least _some_ pictures."

Johnny's other eyebrow arched upwards too. "Why? Thought of me in a dress turn you on, Parker?" he said, still smirking.

"No," Peter said, not at all convincingly, crossing his arms over his chest. "I just think you probably looked hilarious. I want to laugh at you, is what I'm saying."

Johnny snorted and turned back around. "Right," he said. "Kinky, Parker. Very kinky."

Johnny couldn't be sure he was right, that Peter really did think it was hot, but he found it both amusing and pleasing to think he was.

Besides, it let him mess with Peter, and that was _always_ fun.

"It _doesn't_ turn me on," Peter insisted from the doorway.

"Okay," Johnny agreed, busy sifting the flour. "I still have it, y'know. Maybe I'll wear it for Halloween this year."

"Do whatever you want," Peter said indifferently. "I don't care."

"Right," Johnny said, glad he was facing away from Peter so he couldn't see his amused smile.

"Jerk," Peter said. "Just for that, I'm gonna go get my phone and my camera, and send MJ pictures of you in a frilly pink apron. Be right back."

"I hate you!" Johnny called after him. 

* * *

Peter hauled a giant and extremely heavy bag of dirty laundry with him when he went downstairs to the apartment building's joint laundry room, glad he had Spidey-strength. 

He sat down to wait for his clothes to be done on top of a washer, textbook spread over one knee, other leg hanging down off the side. 

Johnny stayed upstairs to bake the chocolate chip cookies, but he dashed down to bring Peter cookies when the first batch were done and properly cooled.

Peter was amused to note that Johnny hadn't bothered to take off his apron. 

"You're still wearing the apron," he said, smiling.

Johnny shrugged. "It's just an apron. I don't care if people see me wearing it. I look hot in it. I look hot in practically everything."

Peter rolled his eyes. "Sure you do, Torchy, sure you do."

Johnny snorted. "Fine, don't believe me. But I do." He smirked. "I also look very hot in nothing, of course."

Peter looked up at the ceiling and sighed. "You're doing it again," he said.

"Doing what?" Johnny asked.

"Talking incessantly about how hot you are."

"Oh yeah, that's right! You totally think it's annoying. I could talk about how hot _you_ are instead, if you want," Johnny offered.

"How about we don't talk about how hot anybody is?" Peter suggested. "Just a thought."

Johnny shrugged. "Fine, be that way, party pooper. Also, you're totally lame," he said. He pushed the plate of cookies he'd brought towards Peter impatiently. "Try one, already! Tell me if you like them. I mean, you're gonna like them, because I rock at baking, but...yeah."

Peter reached out and took one. He held it up, squinted at it, and made a show of inspecting it carefully.

"There's nothing wrong with them, jerk!" Johnny huffed.

"Just being careful," Peter said, smile playing around the edges of his mouth.

He took a tentative bite. Wow. The cookies were _shockingly_ good. Of course Peter could never _ever_ tell Johnny that. "Eh," he said to Johnny. "My Aunt May's are better."

"Thanks for making cookies for me, Johnny," Johnny said petulantly. "And taking all of that time and effort to do a nice thing for me. You are awesome."

Peter snorted. "It was nice of you," he said, relenting. "I know you didn't have to."

"No, I didn't," Johnny agreed. "Now gimme a cookie." He grabbed at the pile of cookies Peter was holding.

"Nuh-uh," Peter said, yanking the plate away. "These are mine, Storm, get your own!"

"But I have to go all the way upstairs and wait five minutes for more," Johnny whined. "I want some _now_."

Peter stared at him levelly for a few moments. "Fine," he said graciously. "You can have _one_."

Johnny snatched three before Peter could react. 

"Hey!" Peter exclaimed indignantly. "Those are mine!"

Johnny shrugged, happily munching away on his cookies. "Tough luck, Parker."

Peter gave Johnny his finest death-glare. Johnny didn't seem to be bothered by it much.

* * *

"Hey, Johnny," Peter announced, as he was eating the Thai food Johnny'd ordered them out of its container, "I know what we can do on Friday."

"Yeah?" Johnny asked, around a mouthful of chicken, eyes fixed on the TV, where they were watching _Brooklyn Nine Nine_. "Like what?"

"More driving lessons!" Peter said cheerfully, waving his chopsticks around.

Johnny choked on his chicken. When he got his breath back, he said, very firmly, " _No_. Not a chance."

"But, _Johnny—_ " Peter began, petulantly, setting his food down on the coffee table.

"No," Johnny replied, cutting him off. "Don't "but Johnny" me. No means no."

"—how am I supposed to get _better_ —"

"You're not going to. You are _hopeless_. You will _never_ be good at driving. Stick to web-slinging."

"—if you don't teach me?" Peter finished.

"Not happening."

"But driving's _fun_ ," Peter whined. "And I wanna learn _how_."

"I believe I speak for everyone in New York when I say we're all better off if you _don't_."

Peter narrowed his eyes at Johnny. "You're actually saying no to me about something. You _never_ say no to me about anything."

"I say no sometimes," Johnny scoffed. "Cheetos."

"But not when it's something I really, really want," Peter pointed out. "You spent all afternoon baking me cookies just because I said I hate doing laundry alone."

"I was taking pity on you," Johnny said magnanimously. "Doesn't mean I'm pushover."

"Please?" Peter begged.

"No," Johnny repeated. " _It is not going to happen_."

* * *

When Johnny got home from hanging out with Peter, he found Reed, Sue, and Ben all sitting together and chatting in the living room, glasses of wine and a pot of fondue on the coffee table. It was all very grown up, Johnny thought, which was probably why they hadn't invited him.

"Hey, everyone!" he said cheerfully, plopping down in his customary spot next to Ben. "What's up?"

Sue arched an eyebrow. "Where were you?" she asked. "Seeing your mystery girlfriend?"

"Girlfriend? You're dating again, Johnny? That's wonderful!" Reed said, smiling encouragingly.

Johnny started shaking his head, but before he could correct Reed, Ben cut in, sounding utterly delighted, and said, "You have a girlfriend, Matchstick?." He began singing, "Johnny and his girlfriend, sittin' in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G—" without missing a beat.

"Shut _up_ , Ben!" Johnny roared, cutting him off. "I don't have a girlfriend! Also, you have a  _terrible_  singing voice!"

"Sure you don't, bro. He was up before  _nine_  this morning," Sue told Reed and Ben significantly. Ben gasped in mock surprise. "He already had a  _coffee cup_ at nine. From Firefly, that new coffee shop. Meaning he got up, walked two blocks, and bought coffee. _All before nine_." She looked back and forth between Ben and Reed as though certain they would find this evidence as incriminating as she did.

"That's interesting," said Reed, stroking his chin pensively, a slight smile playing around his mouth. "Because my new intern Parker had coffee from that _exact_ coffee shop this morning. And he starts work at nine."

Sue gasped. "This just keeps getting more and more interesting!"

They all turned to look at Johnny expectantly. It was obvious to Johnny that they were all giving him a hard time on purpose. They maybe had even planned this before he got here. Screw them. "Okay," he said reluctantly, sighing wearily. "Busted. Yes, I got up early to have coffee with Pete. What's so weird about that?"

"You don't get up early," Sue informed him. " _Ever._ " 

"Well, unless it's a world-ending catastrophe," Reed corrected.

"And then only 'cause we make ya," Ben pointed out. "With loud alarms. And don't ferget, sometimes I've literally had ta drag ya t' the Fantasticar, squirt."

Johnny's mouth worked for a bit as he tried to figure out what to say. "That's not fair. I get up early sometimes. Like for your wedding," he said, pointing at Reed and Sue.

"Yes," Sue said. "And you whined for  _months_  about it. Tried to get us to hold it later in the day. I'm your  _sister_  and you didn't even want to get up early for my  _wedding_. And now you're getting up  _willingly_  for this boy you barely know. Can't blame us if we're a bit curious as to why."

"I don't know why!" Johnny said defensively, throwing up his hands. "He said he never had time to get coffee in the mornings, so I brought him some! I was doing something nice for a friend! What's wrong with that?"

"Wait," Ben said. "Ya _brought_ this kid coffee?"

"Yeah," Johnny said as though it wasn't a big deal. "I also made him cookies."

Ben immediately stared rifling through Johnny's jacket.

"Hey, jerk, what gives?" Johnny said, slapping Ben's hands away.

"Ya made _cookies_ , squirt, and ya didn't bring us any?" Ben said indignantly. "I'm hurt!"

Johnny rolled his eyes. "Look, I'll make you guys cookies tomorrow, okay? What kind do you want, Benjy?" he asked Ben.

Ben looked pensive. "Peanut butter."

Johnny shrugged. "Okay, pal. I'll make you some tomorrow, promise. Um, and I'll do it _before_ I give Peter more driving lessons. In case I don't survive it. I swear, he's the worst driver I've ever seen." 

Sue squinted at him. "I thought you said Spidey was the worst driver ever."

"Oh," Johnny said, flustered. "Um, he is. But, uh, Peter's just as bad."

"Ah," Sue said. "Okay."

Johnny did  _not_ like the way she said that. It sounded like she'd started to suspect that Peter was Spidey. Not good.

Time to get the hell out of there.

He yawned. "I'm kinda beat. Goin' to bed. No one bother me before like noon. I am sleepin' _in_ tomorrow."

They all wished him good night and he headed upstairs for some (he thought, at least) well-deserved rest.

* * *

As soon as he disappeared up the stairs, Sue turned to Ben and Reed. "Is there something going on between Peter and Johnny," she asked earnestly, "or is it just me?"

"Oh, there's definitely something going on," Reed snorted. "You should see the look on Johnny's face when he stops by to pick up Parker after work. Practically whenever Parker works, Johnny'll be there, like clockwork, around half an hour before Peter's shift's up. He's there _every_ _time,_ dear _._  Also, I believe they may have gone on a date today. It's  _appallingly_  obvious that he likes Parker. He's hardly even trying to hide it."

"I think so too," Ben agreed. "The runt wouldn't get up early fer just anybody."

"They went on a date today? So they're definitely dating? Did they say it was a date?" Sue asked Reed.

Reed frowned as he tried to remember. "Well, as I recall, Johnny called it a date. And then Parker glared at him and Johnny winked back," he answered. Then he shrugged. "Like I said. Obvious. It was very difficult to pretend not to notice. Johnny wears his heart on his sleeve, as always."

"Ah," Sue said, a bit disappointed. "So they aren't dating yet. Seems like Johnny's pulling out all of the stops if he's making Peter those delicious cookies."

"Yeah," Ben agreed. "I can't believe the pipsqueak didn't bring us any."

"I wonder why Peter doesn't want to date my baby bro," Sue said. She clapped a hand to her mouth. "Oh my god," she said. "What if he's straight? Johnny's just going to get his heart broken again, isn't he?" She turned to Reed. "Is Peter straight?" she inquired anxiously.

Reed looked at her helplessly. "Erm, I'm afraid I don't know that. I suspect that Johnny is more intelligent than to attempt to pursue a romance with someone who isn't interested." 

"He's nineteen," Sue hissed. "With raging hormones. I don't think he thinks these things through."

"Well, his dalliance with Parker seems to have been going on since Parker began working here a few weeks ago. He seems fairly invested in him."

Sue pinched the bridge of her nose. "This is going to be a _disaster_ , just watch. He's emotionally invested in Peter and more vulnerable than usual because of his break-up with Crystal. Great. Well," she added wryly, "at least he's stopped talking to her picture. That was just _sad_."

"Johnny was talkin' to her  _picture_?" Ben asked Sue.

"Yeah," she said. "He seems to have stopped now. Or maybe he's just gotten sneakier. He does that too."

"He's kinda calmed down a bit recently, hasn't he? Hasn't been going t' as many parties 'nd all that," Ben said pensively.

"True," Sue said. "But that's probably just because he spends so much time with Peter."

"It presents an added wrinkle to my work relationship with Parker if he and my brother-in-law are dating," Reed mused. "I will have to ponder the moral quandary this places me in. Will place me in?"

Sue patted his shoulder. "You do that, dear. But just remember that you can't fire him, for any reason."

"Why not?" Reed asked.

"Johnny might take it the wrong way," Sue answered. "And we wouldn't want that."

"No," Reed said pensively. "I suppose not."

"Just remember," said Sue. " _Nobody say anything_. We wait until he tells us. Agreed?"

Reed nodded. "Yes, I think that's wise."

Sue turned to look expectantly at Ben.

"Aw, but _Suzy_ ," he whined, "makin' fun of Johnny and his dates is _fun_. The squirt gets all embarrassed and angry and his face gets all red—it's _funny_."

"Ben," Sue said. "Clearly, he's a bit sensitive about this since Peter's a boy. We need to be delicate. Teasing him about girlfriends is fine, and it'll be fine to tease him about his boyfriends eventually. But not yet."

"What a revoltin' development," Ben said, disappointed. "Fine, I won't tease the kid. Rats. That's my favorite part of Johnny's datin' life. Me mockin' him. Rats."

* * *

"Okay, okay," MJ told Johnny exasperatedly as she plopped down across from him in the booth he'd picked out in her favorite diner. Its primary attraction was that it was approximately two blocks from Empire State University, giving her plenty of time to run off campus for a quick burger and then back again in time for her next class. "What's the emergency that just couldn't wait? This had better be good, and also, you are paying for my lunch, Fireboy."

Johnny waved a hand to show that of course he would. "Well, um," he said hesitantly, "I, uh, and you are totally invited, for the record, kinda asked Pete to hang out on Friday, and I got no clue where to take him, and he's gonna get pissy at me if I don't come up with something. You know Pete really well. What would he like?"

"No, no, no," MJ said, shaking her head. "Rookie mistake.  _Never_ do things with Peter that Peter would like. Peter likes things like hanging out at museums for hours, or going to boring science lectures, or, god, exhibits on model trains—I am getting sleepy just remembering that one. If those trains had been big enough, I think I would have thrown myself on the tracks and thanked the gods it was all over. He was _so_ excited, though. He  _really_ likes model trains. It's frankly a little disturbing."

"Model trains?!" Johnny asked, scandalized. " _Peter likes model trains?_ "

MJ raised her eyebrows and nodded. "I _know,_ Fireboy. Believe me. He likes them so much, it's embarrassing to be seen with him. He _fanboys_ over them, Johnny."

Johnny clapped a hand to his face. "Who the hell likes model trains? I feel like I don't even know him now."

"He said something about his Uncle Ben liking them too," MJ said. "That's probably why. You know he idolized him."

"Yeah," Johnny agreed. "But _model trains_?"

MJ shrugged. "See? His problem is that no one has ever taught him how to have actual fun. So if you want to make Pete do something _actually_ fun and relaxing, you have to push him out of his comfort zone." She snapped her fingers. "What about that new karaoke bar that just opened?"

Johnny snorted. "Pete would hate us forever if we took him there. Drinking, singing, dancing. He would _hate_ it with a fiery burning passion."

"I don't know," MJ shrugged. "I think it would do him good to let off some steam and let loose for once. We just have to get enough drinks into him."

"Maybe," Johnny said. "We'd need fake ids to get in, wouldn't we? None of us is over twenty-one." 

"Yeah, don't worry," MJ said dismissively. "I know a guy. I can get us some, if you'll pay for 'em."

"Yeah, sure," Johnny shrugged. He smirked. "It'll be worth it to see the look on Pete's face when we tell him he has to use one."

MJ smiled and closed her eyes. "I can just imagine it now."

* * *

"You want me to use  _fake ids_  to get into a  _bar_?" Peter asked indignantly when MJ and Johnny informed him of the plan they'd cooked up between them for Friday night. Which Peter, for one, found very interesting, because it meant they were hanging out while he wasn't there, or at _least_ texting each other without including him. 

He was, at the moment, very much regretting ever having introduced them. Mostly because the two of them seemed to just _love_ to ganging up on him to make him do "fun" things that Peter, for one, did  _not_ find  _at all_ fun.

Like going to  _stupid_ _bars._ Which was where your typical college students went, not the ones who dressed up like spiders and swung around the city kicking bad guys in the face (and okay, admittedly that was (so far) only Peter).

"Yep," Johnny said nonchalantly. MJ nodded in agreement.

"I am a crime _fighter_ , not a crime- _doer_ ," Peter informed them.

Johnny rolled his eyes. 

"You take _pictures_ of crimes," MJ told Peter. "You do not _fight_ crime. You are not a cop, or a superhero, like Johnny is."

" _Johnny_ knows what I mean," Peter said, crossing his arms and tilting his chin up defiantly.

"Oh,  _Johnny_  knows what you mean," MJ said with a melodramatic roll of her eyes.

"Well, he does," Peter said coolly. "You don't have to take that tone."

" _Do_ you know what he means?" MJ asked Johnny skeptically.

"Yes," Johnny said, managing to remain admirably straight-faced. "He likes to pretend he fights crime. In his pjs."

"They are not pjs!" Peter hissed.

"They're Spider-Man pjs, MJ, I swear, and they are so cute."

Johnny smirked at Peter, knowing Peter couldn't really prove otherwise without telling MJ the truth about Spidey.

Peter narrowed his eyes at him, mentally projecting images of all of the methods he was planning on using when he killed Johnny later.

Johnny responded to his attempts at mental telepathy by winking roguishly at him.

Peter was definitely going to kill him.

"Why are you hanging around him while he's in his pjs?" MJ asked suspiciously.

"Because he looks cute in them," Johnny said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "God, MJ, please try to keep up. It's embarrassing."

* * *

As soon as they walked into the bar, Peter took one look around and then rounded on MJ and Johnny, arms crossed. "This is a karaoke bar, isn't it?" he hissed.

MJ and Johnny shot each other amused looks. "Uh, yeah, Pete, it is," Johnny said. "Great observational skills there, buddy. You should be like a detective or something."

Peter leveled cool glares at both of them. "You know, if you wanted to tell me you hate me, there are easier ways."

Johnny grinned brightly at him; MJ snickered into her hand.

Clearly, the two of them had formed an unholy alliance, and must be stopped at all costs.

Peter was going to get right on that.

Right after he figured out how to do his taxes.

MJ was a little terrifying, okay?

Johnny strolled over to Peter and threw an arm over his shoulders. "Relax, Pete," he said amicably. "Wait till we get a few drinks into you. You'll love it."

MJ hooked her arm through Peter's. "Yeah, Tiger, just give it a chance."

Peter looked skeptical. "Uh-huh," he said.

He didn't believe them for one second. 

* * *

A few beers later, Johnny dragged a somewhat less reluctant Peter up to the stage with him to sing a duet.

Peter had to bite back a laugh when he saw that Johnny'd chosen "Drive My Car." 

* * *

"You really _can't_ drive my car," Johnny said when they were done singing and stumbling off the stage, his arm slung loosely across Peter's shoulders. "Not any of them. Like, if you go within five feet of one with the intention of driving it, I _will_ scream. You're just... _such_ a _horrible_ driver, Pete. Like the worst _ever_."

"I am _not_ that bad!" Peter snapped.

"Yeah, y'are. Maybe I should take your car back," Johnny mused. "Save the fair citizens of the city from death by Spidey-Mobile. Do my good heroic deed for the day."

"Not a chance," Peter told him. "That car's mine now, and you're _never_ getting it back."

"Never getting what back?" MJ asked from their table.

"His dignity," Peter said without missing a beat, since he couldn't exactly explain about the Spidey-Mobile to her. "It's _long_ gone. I'd say his intelligence is too, but, let's be honest, he never really had any."

Johnny just glared at him. "You're gonna pay for that, Parker," he murmured to him under his breath. He turned to MJ with a winning smile. "Hey, y'know what, MJ? _You_ two should sing something now!" he suggested. 

" _No_ ," Peter said, horrified. "Oh _god_ no. Not again, _please_. I will. I will _pay_ you if you don't make me go up there again. Much—a _lot_ of money. _So_ much."

Johnny patted his back. "Aw, Pete, it's so cute that you think you could afford to bribe either of us, when you can't even afford to pay for your own groceries."

"I will. Do your groceries for you?"

"Tempting," Johnny said. "But no."

"I will kiss you on the mouth."

Johnny frowned at him. "I don't believe you."

"I will kiss MJ on the mouth?"

Johnny snorted. "Now I  _really_ don't believe you."

"Good," Peter said, "'cause I totally would've backed out of both of those."

"No one is kissing anyone," MJ informed them. "C'mon, Pete, I know just the song!" she continued as she grabbed Peter's hand and started dragging him back towards the stage, which was no easy feat, because Peter _really_ didn't want to go.

"I hate both of you!" Peter yelled loudly so that Johnny would hear it too.

Johnny snorted into his beer. "When will the Webhead ever learn? Insulting ol' Johnny Storm just doesn't pay," he said, shaking his head.

* * *

MJ picked "Eye of the Tiger." Peter groaned loudly when he heard the opening guitar riff. "I really, really, _really_ hate both of you. Like so, so much."

MJ pecked a kiss onto his cheek. "Shut up and sing, Tiger," she ordered.

* * *

"...so then," Johnny was saying, "the time-travelling evil magician guy actually turned the Fantasticar into a _giant powdered donut_. Whoo. Reed was  _so_ mad, you don't even know. He made that hilarious frowny face. The only thing that saved the day was when Sue reminded him that it meant that he'd need to spend weeks designing a new one. That cheered him up like right away."

He took a chug of his beer. He was feeling a low pleasant buzz. 

MJ arched an eyebrow. "Oh, I didn't believe a word of that story. I mean, hilarious, but... _bullshit_."

Johnny pulled out his phone. "I have pictures of the giant donut. You know it was big because it's bigger than Ben. Also, I have pictures of Reed's frowny face. I now use it as a reaction gif."

Peter pressed his cheek against Johnny's shoulder to peer at the pictures as they scrolled by. 

"Pete," Johnny said. "Do you mind?" He had some private pictures on his phone he didn't want Peter seeing.

"Mind wha'?" Peter slurred drunkenly.

Johnny's eyes widened as he realized belatedly that Peter was, apparently, extremely drunk. He locked eyes with MJ, who was looking equally surprised and amused. "Uh, Pete?" he said, trying to suppress his laughter. "Are you, um, are you _drunk_?"

"Phfft," Peter said, struggling to straighten up unsteadily and not succeeding. "No. 'm fine, Storm. No' drunk at all."

"Oh my god," MJ said gleefully, hearing the unmistakable way Peter stumbled over words. "You _are._ He  _is._ "

"Oh come on," Johnny said dismissively. "He can't be. He's hardly drunk _anything_."

MJ snorted. "Think about it. Knowing him, this is probably the first time he's really had much to drink. He isn't like us, Johnny. He doesn't know how to have fun. Plus, he's clearly a bit of a lightweight."

"Am no'!" Peter scowled.

"Aw," Johnny cooed. "That's cute."

Peter kept scowling. "Take tha' _back_ , Storm! 'm _not_ cute. 'm _ferocious_. Remem'mer?"

Johnny patted Peter's arm. "Yes, you are, Pete, you are  _so_ ferocious," he said patronizingly.

MJ sighed. "Making fun of him is almost _too_ easy now, don't you think?"

"Eh," Johnny answered, beaming at Peter, who was leaning heavily against Johnny to steady himself. "He's totally cute like this."

"Guys," Peter announced, lifting his head, "You know wha'? I think I migh' be drunk. Maybe. Shh. Don' tell anyone."

MJ and Johnny shot amused looks at each other. "Don't worry, Pete," MJ said. "We won't tell a soul."

* * *

At the end of the night, MJ and Johnny managed to wrestle a very, very drunk Peter—who suddenly had decided he _loved_ karaoke bars, and never wanted to leave—into a taxi. 

Peter was sitting between her and Johnny—and she was very amused to note that he was still leaning more towards Johnny than towards her.

She and Johnny were chatting, Peter entirely silent. Every now and then Johnny's eyes would dart to Peter's face and then away just as quickly. Johnny's cheeks turned pink each time. MJ very much wanted to know what the expression on Peter's face was right now—if she had to guess, based on how he'd gotten progressively more clingy with Johnny as he'd gotten more and more drunk, it was probably adoring or fascinated.

MJ noticed the exact moment in which Johnny finally gave in and asked what the hell was going on with Peter. He shut his eyes, exhaled through his nose, and said, somewhat fearfully, "Oookay, buddy. You've been staring at me for like five minutes. With like a totally dorky smile on your face. What's up? There somethin' on my face?"

"No," Peter slurred, still not looking away as far as MJ could tell, "but you've got a verrrry pretty face. I like lookin' at it."

Johnny's face turned a deeper pink this time, his expression somewhere between embarrassed and pleased. 

MJ had to bite her lip _hard_ to keep herself from laughing at it. She had never, in all of the years she'd known Peter, ever seen him this completely and utterly wasted. This was simply too good of an opportunity to waste. "Have you noticed his eyes, Pete?" she asked mischievously, egging him on.

Johnny leaned forward slightly to glare at her across Peter. She smiled at him sweetly. He rolled his eyes at her.

"Aw," Peter said, sounding upset, "you made him mad. He's less pretty like that."

"I'm sorry, Tiger," MJ said contritely. "Why don't you look at his eyes, though? That'll make you happy, I swear."

Peter obliged, leaning in to inspect Johnny's eyes, and gasped in surprised delight. "Oh my _god_! They're so blue!" He let his head slide down to fall onto Johnny's shoulder. "Your eyes are very pretty," he informed Johnny. "Like your face. An' your hair. Your arms are nice too. An' your mouth."

MJ was sure her face was probably about as red as her hair. She felt like she was about to have a fit from the strain of having to contain her laughter.

Johnny leaned against the door, putting some distance between him and Peter, who was still leaning drunkenly on his shoulder. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "You better hope you don't remember this tomorrow, buddy, or you're gonna die of embarrassment."

"If he doesn't," MJ decided, "I will very definitely remind him of everything he said."

"That's just _cold_ , princess," Johnny told her.

She shrugged. "Hey, if he's gonna make me listen to his painful, drunken attempts at flirting, I am going to mock him for it."

"He isn't flirting, he's just _drunk_. He doesn't even know what he's _saying_ ," Johnny said. "Or probably who he's saying it to."

"Oh, I think he knows exactly what he's saying," MJ replied dryly. "He has a crush on you the size of Jupiter."

"Oh, he does _not_ ," Johnny snapped. "And I've been to Jupiter. It's not  _that_ big."

"Gwen's eyes were blue too, y'know," Peter mused to himself. 

MJ and Johnny both looked at Peter, startled. MJ caught Johnny's eyes, glad to see they seemed as shocked as she felt. Peter so rarely ever talked about Gwen.

"I ne'er could fig're out what shade 'f blue they were," Peter slurred onto Johnny's shoulder. "Like the sea or the sky. No," he decided, "it's—I saw this bluebird once, when my Uncle Ben took me campin'. Blues' blue I've e'er—e'er seen. Yeah. Tha' was the color her eyes were. I dream about 'em almos' e'ry night. Th' way they looked when she fell. Beggin' me t' save her. But I couldn', and she died, and it's 'cause I wasn' good enough t' keep her safe."

MJ inhaled sharply at that revelation. Peter was there when Gwen died? How? Why hadn't he ever mentioned it? It explained so much about why he'd been tearing himself to pieces the last few months—it was _guilt_ over not being able to save the woman he loved. But why hadn't he told her? Why the secrets?

Johnny wrapped a comforting arm around Peter and squeezed. "Wasn't your fault, Pete. Nothin' you coulda done," he said as gently as he could.

Oh, MJ realized. Johnny had known. That Peter had been there. For some reason, Peter'd told Johnny but not her. Why?

Peter pulled back and looked searchingly into Johnny's eyes.  "You're s' nice t' me. Why 're you always so nice t' me?"

"Cause you're my bud, stupid," Johnny informed him. "And you're going through a rough time. Also, I'm not  _always_  nice to you. I tease you a lot, remember?"

"Yeah, but y' don' mean it. I tease you too, and  _I_  don' mean it."

Johnny's smile had a hint of sadness to it. "You mean it a little, Pete."

"No, I don'," Peter insisted, dropping his head back onto Johnny's shoulder, hooking one leg over Johnny's to steady himself, until he was curled up on Johnny's lap. Oh, MJ was definitely pointing that out tomorrow. Right after she found out why he'd been lying to her. "I only say those things so you won' notice how much I like you," he confessed.

Johnny's face turned pink again. "Oh," he said faintly. "Good to know."

"Oh my _god_ ," MJ groaned, clapping her hands to her face. "You two are so pathetic. Please get a room and leave me out of your awkward little love confessions."

"I don' love Johnny," Peter corrected her, clutching Johnny's shirt more tightly. "He's just _nice_."

It probably would have been more believable if he hadn't been sitting in Johnny's lap at the time.

"And pretty?" MJ asked a bit snidely, because she couldn't help herself. 

"Yeah," Peter agreed. "That too."

MJ was sure Johnny's face couldn't possibly get any redder.

She rolled her eyes at them.

Idiots. Emotionally stunted idiots. Both of them. 

* * *

"Johnny," MJ asked, as soon as Peter stumbled off to his bedroom to pass out, "what was all that about Peter being there when Gwen died?"

"Uh," Johnny said, at a loss for words. "Did he say that?"

"You know damn well he did, Jonathan Storm," she said, poking him in the chest. "What are you two hiding?" Her eyes widened. "Please tell me he isn't the one who killed her."

"What?" Johnny said, as though it was the dumbest thing he'd ever heard. " _No_ , of course not. Pete would never kill anyone. You think Pete's capable of _killing_ someone?"

"No, of course I don't, Pete's a total sweetheart." Her eyes narrowed. "But you two are hiding something, and I'm going to figure out what."

There was a loud crash from Peter's bedroom, and they heard Peter say, "Ow."

Johnny's eyes went wide with amusement. "You okay in there, Pete?" he called.

"No," they heard Peter say. "I, uh, migh' need help."

"Rock, paper, scissor you for it," Johnny told MJ.

MJ held up a finger to silence him. "Are you decent, Peter?" she called.

"Uh, wha' counts as decent?"

MJ shot Johnny a look. " _You're_ going."

Johnny shrugged. "Well, he might be like naked or something, so I actually _want_ to now."

She poked him in the chest again, hard enough that she was sure it'd sting. " _You_ will be a perfect gentleman, or I will make you regret it like you don't believe." She glared at him.

"Jesus! Fine," Johnny said, rubbing his chest where she'd poked him, "and you have a crazy strong finger, for the record. It's like the finger of death. You could probably kill a man with it, easy."

He started heading towards Peter's bedroom. "Y'know what," MJ said, having second thoughts, and running to catch up, "never mind, I'm going with you. You need a chaperone."

"No, I don't," Johnny scoffed. "Like I would ever  _not_ be a perfect gentleman with Peter. Or _anyone_ , for that matter. My parents and my sister raised me better than that."

"I'm still going," MJ said.

"Suit yourself," Johnny said with an indifferent shrug, and opened Peter's door.

"Tiger?" MJ asked, peering into the darkness. "Where are you?"

"Over here!" Peter called.

"Where?" Johnny said, stumbling around in the dark. "I can't see anything!"

"This is why they both need me," MJ muttered to herself, hanging back in the doorway. "Idiots, both of them." She fumbled around for a light switch, and flicked it on.

That's when they caught sight of Peter. He'd managed to get his shirt _mostly_ off. It was hanging loosely off of one arm. He'd been trying to get his jeans off, apparently, when he had tipped over, jeans stuck around his knees.

Johnny burst into loud peals of laughter when he saw him. MJ felt terrible, laughing at her friend while he was in such a predicament, but she couldn't keep from laughing either.

"Are you jus' gonna stan' there and laugh, or are y' gonna help?" Peter huffed, mortally offended.

"Sorry, sorry," Johnny said, trying to smother his laughter, as he moved to help Peter. He failed miserably when he knelt next to Peter's feet, intending to help pull Peter's jeans off. "Oh my god," Johnny wheezed breathlessly, "he forgot to take his shoes off first. Pete, you know you have to take your shoes off first, right?" 

Peter pushed himself up on his elbows unsteadily and peered down at his feet. "Oh," he said, frowning. "Yeah. I forgot abou' tha'. Oops." He pressed a hand to his mouth and grimaced embarrassedly. Unfortunately, as drunk as he was, balancing on one arm was simply beyond his capability. He tipped over, face first, and said, "Ow. Again. This floor is very uncomferrable."

Johnny laughed so hard at Peter that he toppled over backwards, curled onto his side and guffawed into the carpet, clutching at his sides helplessly.

"Move over, Johnny," MJ growled, shoving him aside playfully. "You are totally useless, and I have got this."

"Thanks," Peter said gratefully, patting MJ's arm. "He's _awful_."

She smiled at him, trying not to laugh at his drunken display of gratitude as she untied his shoes. "You're welcome, sweetie." She turned and smacked a still-laughing Johnny. "Stop being useless. Find his pjs. Those Spider-Man ones, if you can," she added, winking.

Johnny nodded, swallowing down his laughter and wiping away the tears that were running down his cheeks. "Okay, okay."

"Don' _have_ Spidey pjs," Peter slurred. " _Tol'_ ya I didn'."

Johnny started rooting around through Peter's drawers, back to MJ and Peter. "Don't worry, pal. I'll find you something." MJ heard Johnny stop moving. She turned to look to see why, holding one of Peter's shoes in her hands. "Oh. My. God," Johnny whispered in hushed wonder. He whirled around, holding up what MJ instantly recognized as Human Torch pajamas. Her eyes widened. This was altogether too good to be true. 

"Uh, Pete?" Johnny said, eyes dancing, barely restrained mirth laced through his voice. "What's this?"

MJ glanced down in time to see Peter crack an eye open and squint up at Johnny. His eyes grew wide as saucers and he said, "Uh-oh," and immediately hid his face behind his hands.

"Oh my _god_!" Johnny yelled, clearly loving Peter's incriminating embarrassment. He rushed over to kneel next to Peter. "This is the best thing in the history of  _for_ _ever_. How long have you had these?"

"Uh," Peter said evasively, still hiding, "uh, well, I don'...remem'mer."

"Uh-huh," Johnny said, grinning and trying to yank Peter's hands away from his face. " _You_ bought pjs of me."

"No, I didn'!" Peter shouted, tearing his hands away from his face. "They were a _presen'_. Fr'm my Aun' May. When I was in _high school_."

"Because she knew you had a massive crush on me too?" Johnny said, smirking.

"Oh my god," MJ said, suddenly remembering something, and clapping a hand to her mouth, eyes wide. Peter and Johnny both turned to look at her.

"What?" Johnny asked curiously.

"No!" Peter pleaded, tugging at Johnny's shirt, knowing that the answer couldn't be good. "Don' ashk 'er tha'." 

"His Aunt May thought he was gay in high school," MJ blurted out. "She might really have given him those because she thought he had a crush on you. And, now that I think about it, Johnny, I think he had a poster of you on his bedroom wall. As recently as like two years ago."

Johnny stared at her blankly for a few beats and then tossed his head back and cackled. "I knew it! I knew it!" he hollered at Peter, pointing at Peter accusingly. "You totally had a crush on me in high school! Yes! _Yes!_ I win _everything_ , and you _lose_!"

Peter hid his face again, which was rapidly turning crimson. "I didn'! I didn'! _I didn'!_ " he insisted. "You jus'—you gave a speech at my school! I was feelin' down, and thinkin' about quittin' and you were all 'never give up!' an'—an' it gave me hope again, and I—you jus' meant a lot t' me, is all."

"That is somehow _so_ much worse than if you just had a crush on him. Oh my _god_ , was he like your idol in high school?" MJ asked.

Johnny's eyes widened as his head snapped over to look at Peter, waiting eagerly for the answer. "Please say I was your hero, Pete. That would, like, make my year. Also, I will hold it over you forever."

Peter looked back and forth helplessly between MJ and Johnny. "No!" he said, scowling. "I though' he was a jerk as soon as I talked t' 'im for five secon's."

"But you kept the poster," MJ pointed out. "It was there when I visited your aunt right after we met. You were like eighteen then."

"I had a _color scheme_ for my posters. Gettin' rid of it woulda ruined tha'," Peter insisted.

Johnny snorted. "Right. We both totally believe that."

"Just admit it, Tiger," MJ advised him. "You just thought Johnny's face was pretty."

"Johnny's face _is_ pretty," Peter said stubbornly. "Bu' it's still not why I kep' it."

Johnny grinned triumphantly. "You totally had a crush on me!" he sing-songed at Peter.

"No, I didn'!" Peter shouted. "I even had a list of eight hunnerd reasons why I hated you."

Johnny perked up at that. "Can I see this list?" he asked eagerly. 

"My Aun' May has it," Peter explained. "I don'."

"I'm gonna frame it and put it on my wall," Johnny decided. "To commemorate your high school crush on me."

"It's a list of why I hated you," Peter said, confused about why Johnny would want to do that. "Not why I liked you."

"Yeah, but like, you took the time to write out a list of eight hundred reasons why you hated me. You wouldn't've done that if you weren't a _little_ obsessed with me."

Peter opened his mouth to argue, but couldn't think of any rebuttal to Johnny's annoyingly sound logic. He hid his face again. "I _hate_ you. So much."

"I look forward to reading a detailed list of why exactly you hate me," Johnny told him.

Peter groaned. "I changed m'mind," he announced. "Y'can't see it, Johnny."

"Oh, I can sweet talk your Aunt May into letting me see it. You just watch me. She adores me," Johnny said airily.

"Don' flirt with my aunt!" Peter shouted. "It's _gross_!"

"Right," MJ agreed. "Because Johnny's yours, not your aunt's."

"Exac'ly!" Peter yelled. He frowned as MJ's words finally registered. "Wait, what?"

"Aw," Johnny sniffed, pressing his hands to his chest. "I'm... _so_ touched that you think that, Pete. But unfortunately, our love can never be. I am promised to another."

"No, you aren't," MJ scoffed.

"Shh," Johnny said out of the corner of his mouth. "I'm trying to let him down easy. Breaking a man's heart is a delicate operation."

"You are _not_ breakin' my heart, jerk!" Peter yelled. "I don' _care_ if you go off with someone else!"

"Aw," Johnny said, putting a hand on Peter's shoulder consolingly. "That's the spirit, Pete. Be brave."

Peter looked back and forth between their smiling faces, speechless with indignation. "I don' wanna be frien's with either of you am'nymore," he announced, and began trying to crawl away from them, without much success.

"I know, Pete, sometimes it's hard to stay friends with people you're carrying a torch for," Johnny said. MJ and Peter let out twin groans at the horribleness of Johnny's joke. Johnny continued, undeterred. "Especially if your feelings aren't reciprocated. But we can't let our friendship die over your deep, _passionate_ love for me."

MJ's shoulders were shaking as she laughed quietly into her hand, mostly at the look of abject horror on Peter's face.

Peter covered his ears with his hands, scrunched his eyes closed, and said, "Tha's it. I am pretennin' neither of you are here."

"Alright," MJ told Johnny. "Let's take pity on him. I think he's had enough teasing for one night. Let's get his pjs on and put him in bed."

Johnny held up the Human Torch pjs he was holding. "Can we please please  _please_ put him in these?" he asked hopefully.

" _Hell_ yes," MJ said. "He's gonna be  _so_ embarrassed when he wakes up. It's gonna be _great_."

* * *

Peter was lying on something very, very warm, and very, very comfortable. His head was throbbing like he'd been clobbered by the Thing, his mouth tasted like something had died in there, and he was definitely scared of what would happen when he opened his eyes. 

He decided to try anyways.

He cautiously opened one eye and flinched at the bright sunlight and the way it made his head throb even worse. He appeared to be lying on something...peach? He lifted his head a little. Oh my god. It was someone's chest. Someone's very muscular and very bare chest. He looked up. Johnny Storm (of _course_ , Peter groaned internally, who else would it be? The universe hated him, so of course it was Johnny) was grinning down at him. "Hey there, gorgeous," Johnny said seductively. "Did you sleep comfortably?"

Peter shrieked and jolted up off of Johnny. "No! Why are you in my bed? Why?" He looked around. "Oh _shit_! This isn't my bed! Johnny, why the hell am I sleeping  _on you_ in the _living room_ instead of in my own _bed_?"

"Well, believe me, I tried to make you sleep in your bed," Johnny said, looking infinitely amused at the whole situation. "Like fifty times. I kept waking up to you asking if you could sleep here instead of your room because I was better than your mattress. Eventually I was so tired I just let you, long as I could sleep, I didn't care." One corner of his mouth tilted upwards. "Oh, and then there was that memorable time you said I was  _prettier_ than your mattress."

"I did  _not_ say that! Did I?" Peter abruptly realized that he couldn't remember much of what had happened the night before. "I don't remember what happened last night." He looked at Johnny worriedly. "Just  _please_ tell me there was no...you know."

A look of confusion crept into Johnny's eyes. "No what?"

"You know."

"No, I don't. You're gonna have to spell it out for me."

"Sex!" Peter shouted. "Please tell me we didn't have sex."

Johnny stared at him as though trying to decide whether he should answer seriously. "Well, okay, no, but you did profess your undying love for me."

"What?!" Peter exclaimed, horrified. "I did not! Please tell me I didn't!"

Johnny shrugged. "You did a little bit." He smirked and pointed at Peter's chest. "Also, have you noticed what pjs you're wearing?"

Peter froze and instantly shut his eyes. "Oh my god. Please tell me they aren't—" He looked down and opened one eye as much as he dared. He shut it again immediately. Yep, he was wearing his Human Torch pjs, the ones that he had sworn to himself Johnny could never find out about, or he would be forced to leave the country and change his name permanently. "Oh my god, they are," he moaned melodramatically, before falling onto the sofa by Johnny's feet and pulling a pillow over his face. 

He supposed he'd better start coming up with new names, because Johnny was going to be  _insufferable_ after this.

Johnny cackled. "Pete, I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart for having those. My life is so much better now that I know that you have those. You might even say that it changed my life. That's what I mean, Pete, never give up on your dreams, and they'll come true."

Peter stiffened, lifted the pillow, and looked back at Johnny, horror-struck. "No. Please tell me I didn't tell you about the speech."

Johnny smirked at him, which was answer enough.

"Oh god," Peter moaned into the sofa, hiding under the pillow again. "I am _never_ going to drink again. Clearly I can't keep a secret to save my life when I'm drunk."

Johnny chuckled and patted Peter's arm. "Don't worry. MJ and I both had a blast. You were _very_ entertaining. We have enough blackmail material on you to last us _years_ now. Oh, you also decided that you _love_ karaoke."

"Please tell me I didn't really."

"Yeah, y'did, Pete. It was the _best_. You should've seen yourself belting out 'Wind Beneath My Wings.' Among other very embarrassing songs. You basically sang anything MJ and I told you you should sing. And we told you to sing some _very_ embarrassing things. You were _very_ enthusiastic. Not very good at singing, though, I'm afraid. You sounded like a yowling cat. You can't sing, Pete. At all. Finally, I have found something Perfect Peter Parker sucks at. Well, apart from driving."

"I suck at a lot of things. You just choose to ignore them unless they directly put your life in danger or are funny."

"Last night was  _very_ funny. Y'know, I think MJ filmed parts of it. We'll ask her when she wakes up."

"MJ's here?" Peter asked frantically. "Oh my god, I need to get _off_  this couch! She's gonna think we were fooling around or something!" He extricated himself from the couch and landed face first on the floor.

Johnny snorted. "She watched you throw up into a toilet like five times. Hopefully she knows I wouldn't go anywhere _near_ your mouth."

"Oh," Peter said, turning over and staring up at the ceiling with a frown. "Is that why my mouth tastes awful?"

"Yep," Johnny nodded. "Brush your teeth, dude. Also, she knows you were sleeping here. Saw you when she got up to get some water."

The door to Harry's room burst open and a very bleary-eyed MJ walked out, with the worst case of bedhead Peter'd ever seen, made more remarkable because MJ's appearance was typically impeccable.

Peter and Johnny stared at her blankly, then burst out laughing.

"Oh my god," Johnny wheezed. "I didn't think you could  _look_ this awful. Your hair looks as bad as Anna's in  _Frozen_."

Peter's laughter faded and he squinted up at Johnny. " _You've_ seen  _Frozen_?" he asked incredulously.

"One-year-old nephew, dude," Johnny said indifferently. "You end up watchin' a lot of kids stuff."

"I resent the laughter and you will both pay for it dearly," MJ announced. "There will maybe be blood and fire involved. No, wait, make that icy cold water. That's scarier for Johnny." She narrowed her eyes at Johnny. "Have you told him about his pjs yet?"

Johnny smirked. "Yep. He hid under a pillow."

"Pictures?" she asked.

"No, sorry," he said sheepishly.

She shrugged. "Not a big deal. There's plenty left to torture him with."

At that, Peter rolled under the coffee table. "I am not coming out of here for like forever! Or until you both promise to stop making fun of me for getting drunk, which I totally know you _both_ did on purpose!"

MJ shrugged. "You needed to let off steam, and also, you are a very funny drunk. Now that we know this, it will happen more often."

"No! I've decided that alcohol is the worst thing ever invented," Peter announced. "And will never drink another drop."

"I dunno," Johnny shrugged. "I kind of like you better when you're drunk."

"That's because he spends all of his time telling you you're pretty."

Peter blanched. "Did I really? I thought he was kidding."

"You _did_ , Pete.  _So_ many times," MJ said with an annoyed sigh. "He got  _all_ the love. You pretty much ignored me completely. Not a single "Your hair is pretty" or anything."

"He's not even that pretty," Peter protested.

"I am ridiculously pretty," Johnny huffed. "Drunk-you agrees with me, which means sober-you secretly agrees with me. Drunk-you is also very handsy, just FYI."

Peter's eyes widened. "Do you mean I was handsy with _you_ or like with strangers? And I honestly don't know which I'm hoping you'll say."

"Now did this groping happen before, after, or while he was sitting in your lap?" MJ asked. "Just to clarify."

Peter looked back and forth between both of them. "Nope," he said. "I am never leaving the safety of this coffee table. And I officially unfriend both of you."

Johnny snorted. "We are  _so_ not that easy to get rid of." He rubbed his stomach. "I'm starving. Who wants pancakes?"

"Ugh," MJ groaned. "I don't know if I can keep it down. Peter's not the only one who spent the night barfing."

Peter shrugged. "I don't remember any of it."

"Drunk as you were, it's a miracle you're even conscious right now. I'm not totally clear on why you are," MJ said, squinting.

"I heal fast," Peter explained. "It's a metabolism thing."

Johnny got up. "Whatever, dude. No one cares. I'm hungry. _Pancakes_."

* * *

Johnny eventually managed to lure Peter out from under the coffee table with promises of chocolate chip pancakes and frilly pink aprons.

He followed through, presenting Peter with chocolate chip pancakes covered in chocolate syrup and whipped cream, while wearing Aunt May's apron over his black boxer briefs. Peter laughed merrily at the sight.

Johnny even added a happy face to the pancakes, which MJ suspected was intended to mock Peter's fairly childish choice of breakfast. If so, it backfired miserably. Peter cooed happily when he saw it. Johnny snorted and rolled his eyes in response.

As MJ bit into her pancakes—which were buttermilk with regular maple syrup, thank you very much, because she wasn't _five_ , like some boys she knew—she couldn't help but think that the Flamebrain really _was_ a shockingly good cook.

She took a _long_ sip of her coffee and then let out a distressed sigh. 

Peter's eyes flicked over to her. "Something wrong, Red?" he asked.

Johnny was looking at her warily, probably suspecting what was about to happen.

"Why didn't you tell me you were there when Gwen died?" she asked Peter bluntly. To hell with sneaky tactics—MJ had always favored the direct approach.

Peter's mouth dropped open, and Johnny clapped a hand to his face. "You, uh, might've mentioned it last night while you were, y'know, drunk," Johnny explained to Peter.

Peter whacked him on the shoulder. "You couldn't've  _warned_ me, at least, Flamebrain?"

"Uh, _no_? I didn't think she was going to ask so soon!" Johnny protested.

"It's _MJ_ ," Peter hissed. "She's smart enough to know that if she'd waited, we would've had time to come up with a clever lie."

"So it _is_ definitely true then," MJ said.

Peter and Johnny both turned to look at her guiltily. "Uh," Peter said. "There is a slight chance that what you said is essentially mostly...correct."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Peter winced and ruffled his already sleep-mussed hair with his hand. "It's complicated."

"So uncomplicate it," MJ said.

"I can't," Peter said. "It's not my secret to tell. It's Spider-Man's."

"Wait a minute," MJ said. "The police didn't see you at the crime scene. It's why Spider-Man was their only suspect. Because he was the only one there. Also, if you were there taking pictures, why weren't there any in the newspaper?"

"Um," Peter said. "I maybe wasn't taking pictures. The Green Goblin took Gwen because he knew I was a friend of Spider-Man's, and he knew I was dating Gwen. It was a trap. Spider-Man wanted me to get Gwen out of there while he dealt with the Goblin. It, uh, didn't work. I failed."

"That doesn't make sense, though," MJ said. "Why wouldn't the Goblin just've taken you? Spider-Man didn't really know Gwen, but he did know you. And why didn't you tell the police any of this to clear Spidey's name?"

"I offered, but, um, Spidey didn't want me getting into trouble on his account," Peter said.

MJ could tell he was lying. There was something he wasn't telling her. She knew she should give him his privacy, but...this was eating away at him, whatever it was, and she needed to know for his sake and her own.

"Peter," she said, crossing her arms. "I know you're lying to me right now. It makes me curious about why you would do that."

"I'm not lying. This is the truth, I swear!" Peter protested.

"Tiger," she said. "I am not an idiot. Tell me the truth now, and I might just forgive you for lying to me."

Peter bit his lower lip. "I, uh, I don't—"

"Pete," Johnny cut in. "For god's sake, just tell her. It's stupid to not at this point."

Peter folded his arms across his chest and said, "She might get hurt too, and I can't let that happen."

"Gwen got hurt and she didn't know. Maybe knowing will help her be safer. C'mon, Pete," Johnny said, "what if the Goblin comes back and she trusts him because she doesn't know any better, because _you_ didn't warn her?"

Peter sighed and rubbed at his eyes, but said nothing. 

"C'mon," Johnny said firmly. "She deserves to know and you know it."

"Fine," Peter snapped. "But if this goes wrong, it's  _your_ fault." He turned to MJ. "You sure you want to know? Once you do, nothing will ever be the same."

MJ nodded silently, feeling her heart pounding loudly in her chest. Something monumental was about to happen, she just knew it.

Peter let out a long sigh. "Alright, Red, you asked for it." He shut his eyes. "Thing is, Spider-Man  _was_ the only person there when Gwen died, other than the Goblin."

MJ felt her heart stop. "Peter, what are you saying?" she asked, dreading to hear the answer.

"That I'm Spider-Man. Duh."

Her eyes widened with shock, her mouth dropped open, as her mind screeched to a halt. She looked over at Johnny, who shrugged and nodded. 

"He only told me a few weeks ago. Well, I knew Spidey better than Pete, so it was the other way around, really, but yeah. I also just found out," Johnny explained.

MJ willed herself to close her mouth. "Okay then," she said faintly. "Start from the beginning, Tiger, and tell me everything."

* * *

Next Tuesday, when Peter came home from his internship, he found Johnny and MJ sitting on his couch watching re-runs of _Friends_. They seemed so engrossed in it hardly even turned to look at him when he walked in.

"Why, hello, people who don't live here," he said. "How'd you get in?"

"Key," MJ said. "You keep forgetting that I have one."

Peter clapped a hand to his face. "Red, you really gotta give that back."

"Nope," she said, shaking her head, eyes fixed on the TV. "Not a chance."

Peter sighed. 

"Hey, Pete," Johnny said, waving at him cheerily, still looking at the TV.

"Hey, Johnny," Peter said. "I'm going to my room now."

"Okay," Johnny said with a casual shrug. "Do what you want, man."

* * *

As soon as Peter's back was turned, Johnny turned to MJ, wide eyed, excited.

She clapped a hand to her mouth and looked as though she was trying very hard not to laugh audibly.

They heard Peter's bedroom door open.

"Wait for it," Johnny breathed. "One, two, three..."

Peter let out an inhuman shriek, and MJ and Johnny collapsed against each other in fits of giggles.

Peter stormed out of his bedroom. "What the  _hell_ is wrong with you two? What did you  _do_?  _Why would you do this to me?_ " he shouted, absolutely livid.

"Pete, when you talk that fast, normal humans can't understand you," Johnny informed him, trying desperately to keep a straight face. "Also, I have no idea what you are referring to."

"Oh," Peter huffed, "so you and MJ  _didn't_  replace all of my stuff with Human Torch merchandise? There's a Human Torch  _rug_ in there, Johnny! My _bed_ has your _face_ on it. And there are  _t-shirts_. And a _lamp_. And _curtains_. And a _clock_. And like five  _posters_. And—did I see _towels_ of you too?"

Johnny's eyes widened. "Aw, Pete," he said, messing with Peter. "I'm touched. I didn't know you were such a fan. Want me to sign it all for you?"

Peter turned redder, which Johnny hadn't even thought possible. " _I am not a fan!_ " he spluttered. " _You_ —" He pointed accusingly at both of them. "—did this to me!"

"You sure about that, Pete? 'Cause I think you probably just ordered it all yourself when you were drunk or something," Johnny said.

"I think you did too, Tiger," MJ agreed. "We all know how obsessed you were with Johnny when you were in high school."

"I was not obsessed with him in high school!" Peter yelled, frustrated. "Where are you even _getting_ this?"

Johnny pulled out a list, written on lined yellow paper, he had squirreled away in his jeans pocket. He cleared his throat pointedly and began to read, "'Johnny 'I really really really REALLY hate him' Storm or HUMAN TORCH or MATCHSTICK or FLAMEBRAIN or DUMB ON FIRE GUY'—which, by the way, _hey,_ and also I resent that—"

Peter cut him off before he could keep going. "How did you get that?" he asked, mortified. 

"Drunk-you was _very_ chatty," Johnny said.

Peter face-palmed. "I _hate_ drunk-me so much," he moaned.

"Your Aunt May says hi, by the way," Johnny continued, "and also that you should come over for dinner on Sunday night." He flicked a very satisfied smile at Peter. "Which I am also invited to, of course. She offered to show me baby pictures of you. I am _so_ in." He crinkled his nose. "Oh, and just to warn you, I think she thinks we're dating. I should probably mention that she may think that because I implied as much. Sorry, but it was the only way to get her to let me look through your stuff."

Johnny didn't sound particularly sorry. 

"You  _cannot_ go to Sunday family dinner with me!" Peter yelled.

"Well, if Johnny's going," MJ said, "I am _definitely_ going. I'm not missing that. My aunt will be there too, seeing as how my aunt lives with Peter's aunt. And just to warn both of you, I am going to do _everything_ in my power to convince May and my aunt that you really are dating. So there's that."

Peter flopped down on the sofa next to Johnny and buried his face in his hands. "There is _no one_ on this planet that I don't hate right now."

Johnny raised his hands indignantly. "After  _all_ the presents I just bought you?"

"Which I will be selling on eBay as soon as is humanly possible," Peter shot back.

Johnny tossed him a disapproving, deeply offended look. "Dude, _not_ cool. We went through a lot of trouble to get that stuff and make your room awesomer than it ever has been before. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get that handmade Human Torch lamp, dude? Or how much they're _worth_?"

"Yeah," MJ agreed. "And after all the time it took us to arrange to get that stuff and, like, decorate, we think you should keep it for at least a week. Week is good, right?" she whispered to Johnny.

"Yeah, week's fine," he whispered back. "And after a week, we'll give you your old stuff back," he told Peter.

Peter looked up at them through his fingers. "Why am I friends with either of you? I really can't think of a single reason."

"Because we love you, and you love us, dummy," MJ said. "And I'm sure you're already trying to come up with a prank to get back at us."

"I am, and it will happen, and it will be awesome," Peter affirmed.

"If I help you," MJ offered, "will you leave me out and just play it on Johnny?"

"Traitor!" Johnny hissed.

MJ gave him a serene smile. "Every girl for herself, kiddo."

Peter shrugged. "Maybe. If I think you'll be useful."

"Oh, I will be," she said. "I'm the one who talked Johnny into getting you an  _actual_ present."

Peter's head whipped over to Johnny. "You got me an actual present?" He squinted suspiciously. "Does this also happen to have your face on it?"

Johnny laughed nervously. "Uh, okay, well no..." He pointed to a large, brightly gift-wrapped box in the kitchen that Peter hadn't noticed. "It's over there."

* * *

Peter went to the kitchen, and began inspecting the present with a look that plainly said he didn't trust Johnny or MJ at all. 

He turned to glare at Johnny, who was standing next to him, arms crossed, fidgeting anxiously, and then at MJ, who was leaning casually in the doorway, smirking at both of them.

"It's not going to, like, kill me or something, is it?" Peter asked Johnny, crossing his arms.

"No!" Johnny huffed. "This is an _actual_ present that I bought in case you got too mad at us over the Human Torch prank."

Peter squinted at him. "If it kills me, I'm going to haunt you _so hard_. Just FYI."

He turned to the present and cautiously started to tear strips of the wrapping paper away.

"I hope you like it. If you don't, it's totally okay, I'll return it," Johnny said as Peter unwrapped it.

Peter gasped, shocked, when he realized what it was. "Oh my _god_ ," he said, covering his mouth with his hand. " _Is this a model train set_?"

"Uh, yes?" Johnny said uncertainly, as though he wasn't certain whether Peter's reaction was delighted or upset. "A very expensive collector's..." He waggled his fingers. "...thing, the sales guy said. MJ told me you love these. And I realize now that she may have been pranking me, but I bought it with the best intentions. Do you like it?"

Peter didn't know why he did it. 

He replayed the moment over and over in his mind in the days and weeks that followed.

He _should've_ turned around and said to Johnny, very politely, "Thank you! Awesome present, dude!"

That isn't what he did. _Why didn't he do that?_ That was the logical, sane thing to do.  _Why hadn't he done it?_

Instead, when he whirled around and saw Johnny looking at him kind of hopefully, all endearingly blue eyes and soft golden hair and nervous smiles, and he was being all sweet and touching and thoughtful and he'd been _so_ nice to Peter  _so_ many times over the past few weeks...Peter's heart _melted_.

Without being able to stop himself, even though he tried, he really, really did, he reached out, grabbed two fistfuls of Johnny's blue shirt, and crushed his lips against Johnny's very nice, soft, pleasant lips. 

Johnny froze completely, mouth dropping open from what Peter guessed was probably shock, not kissing back or reacting at all. 

The kiss didn't last long—Peter's brain managed to get his body back under control very quickly and drag his mouth away. 

When he pulled back, Johnny looked... _floored._ He was staring at Peter dazedly, his blue eyes wider than Peter'd ever seen them, his jaw dropping down so low it was going to hit the floor soon. He looked as though he was too flustered to move or do anything.

Peter felt his face heat up when he heard MJ cackling in the doorway, clapping her hands together gleefully. He very much wished he had the ability to turn invisible. Or melt through the floor. 

He would've taken _anything_ over standing in the middle of his sunny kitchen, with MJ laughing at him so hard she looked as though she was about to keel over, and Johnny looking at him like he was from another planet. Actually, scratch that, Johnny wouldn't be weirded out at all by people from other planets. 

Johnny, quite frankly, looked about as shocked as Peter felt. "I'm sorry," Peter said quickly, face bright pink. "I have _no idea_ why I just did that."

"I know! I know!" MJ volunteered from the doorway, raising her hand eagerly and jumping up and down like an excited child. "Pick me! Pick me!"

"Shut _up_ , MJ!" Peter roared. It was her damn meddling that got them into this in the first place.

Peter's outrage accomplished nothing other than making MJ laugh harder.

Johnny got his brain working enough to say. "No." He frowned and scratched the back of his head. "Um. It's—it's...okay. I _really_ didn't mind." A slow blush was creeping up onto his cheeks as well. "Is it hot in here, or is it just me?" he said, tugging at his collar. "I didn't mean that the way it sounded. Sorry. I'm—my brain's not working right now."

MJ was cracking up, pressing one hand to her mouth to smother her laughter, using the other to cradle her sides, as she leaned hard against the doorframe to keep herself upright. "You guys are _so_ stupid," she wheezed. "Are _all_ boys this dumb?"

"Go to _hell_ , MJ," Peter snapped. 

"Why, do you two want to be alone? 'Cause I can leave, really," she offered, half joking, half serious.

"No!" Peter and Johnny both shouted simultaneously. 

"Erm, please stay," Peter pleaded.

"Yeah," Johnny agreed. "Please don't go."

Peter didn't want to have to talk about what just happened, not ever at all, not to anyone.

In fact, he was going to do his damnedest to try to make sure _no one_ ever talked about it all. 

"You guys are just using me so you won't have to talk about your feelings," MJ said, knowing exactly what was going through his brain, it seemed like. She rolled her eyes. " _So dumb_. Fine, I'll stay, but you're gonna have to talk about how you feel about each other eventually."

 _No._ Peter wasn't going to do that. No way, no how, he was not going to talk to Johnny about feelings. He was going to bury it deep and pretend it never happened, because it hadn't, and anyone who insisted otherwise was crazy.

"No, we won't," Peter said, tilting his chin up stubbornly. "You just watch us."

* * *

MJ was sprawled out on the couch, back of her hand pressed to her forehead, shielding her eyes.

Johnny was lying face down on the floor next to her, upper half of his body hidden under the coffee table. "How does he still have so much energy?" he sobbed into the carpet.

"I don't _know_ ," MJ groaned. "He's like an _energizer bunny_. How do we make him _stop_?"

"We pretend we're dead," Johnny decided. "He'll have to sleep eventually. We can sneak away then. Until then, if he asks, we're both dead."

"Oh my _god_ ," MJ hissed. "He's coming over here! Play dead."

Johnny shut his eyes and tried not to breathe too loudly.

Peter walked up to them and crossed his arms, pouting slightly out of disappointment. "Why are you guys lying down?" he asked, tilting his head. "Don't you want to play trains with me? I need someone to switch the rails at the second intersection." He pointed to the tracks by the kitchen.

"Johnny and MJ aren't here anymore," Johnny intoned from under the coffee table. "They died and went to heaven, where there are no model trains. In fact, nobody there has even  _heard_ of model trains."

"Sounds boring," Peter said, nudging Johnny's foot with his own. "I take it you guys are tired of playing with trains."

"Well, yes," Johnny admitted. "But mostly because we're just tired. We've been at this for _hours._ "

"No," MJ cut in. "Not tired. Dead. You killed us, Peter. With trains. Like an old-timey villain. All you need is a twirly mustache and a black top hat." She lifted her head. "Can we watch a movie now?" she asked hopefully.

"But  _trains_ ," Peter complained. "We can watch movies _whenever_."

"The trains are yours too," Johnny pointed out. "So you can play with them whenever you want. Like when we aren't here, or currently dead."

"Ugh, fine," Peter grumbled. "You guys are no fun."

Johnny rolled out from under the coffee table to squint at him. "You and I have very different definitions of the word 'fun'. My fun usually includes, I don't know, dancing and loud music. Or cars. Or shopping for stylish but classy clothes. Or punching bad guys in the face."

MJ reached down to poke at his head. " _Told_ you."

* * *

Peter talked them into watching  _Star Trek._ Johnny was none too clear on the how.

"Oh god," he groaned at Peter, who was sitting on MJ's left side, while Johnny sat on her right. She'd been acting as a sort of buffer for the weird tension that had sprung up between them ever since what MJ had started calling The Most Awkward (and Pathetic) Kiss in the History of the World (and Maybe the Universe), no matter how fiercely Peter glared at her. Johnny bet that Peter was probably regretting not helping him develop a glare-of-death ray right about now. "You're trying to turn us into nerds, aren't you? So we can join your little nerd club and talk about nerdy things while being embarrassingly nerdy?"

"No," Peter replied. "You already are a nerd. I am trying to get you to accept it."

"Oh, there are _so many things_ people in this room need to accept," MJ said, ignoring Peter's murderous glare and gritted teeth. "Like, I don't know, Tiger, your feelings for Johnny?"

"I do _not_ have feelings for Johnny!" Peter ground out. "Drop it, MJ."

MJ sighed and looked up at the ceiling. "Out of all the people in all the world, why did I have to choose to befriend two boys who are hopelessly in love with each other but too stupid to realize it? It's _frustrating_ , is what it is."

Once they recovered from the initial shock, Johnny and Peter began to simultaneously protest that they were not, in fact, in love with each other, and that MJ was clearly a crazy person.

She snorted. "You two _are_ going to have to talk about your feelings, you know." She bit her lip. "As a matter of fact, I just remembered a very urgent appointment, and have to go right now. Which means you two boys will be alone, and forced to find  _something_ to talk about. What could you _possibly_ discuss?" She grinned at them cheekily.

Peter and Johnny looked at each other, faces wearing matching looks of horror. "No," Peter pleaded. "Please don't go, MJ!"

"Yeah," Johnny agreed. " _Stay_."

"Would that I could, boys, but I have places to go," she said, as she put on her favorite dark green coat and searched for her purse. She found it on the floor by the sofa.

"It's midnight," Peter said flatly. "Where could you possibly be going?"

"Meeting friends at a club," she said, without missing a beat, pulling her purse strap over her shoulder.

"Which club?" Peter said. 

"What do you care? You don't know the names of any clubs," MJ shot back.

Peter rolled his eyes, looked back at the TV, and remained silent.

MJ smiled encouragingly at Johnny, and mouthed, "Good luck!" before walking out and shutting the door.

Johnny settled back into the sofa stiffly, folding his arms across his chest, staring at the TV and  _not looking at Peter_ ,  _under any circumstances._

The silence stretched on and on, growing ever more awkward with each passing second.

Peter was on his side of the couch, Johnny on his. It was as though a thick wall of impenetrable concrete had been constructed between them.

Eventually, Johnny couldn't take it anymore.

"Pete," Johnny began, turning to face him.

"Johnny, stop," Peter cut him off, holding up a hand. "Don't do this."

Johnny's jaw clenched tight. "Pete, we really need to talk about the kiss thing, and you know it, or things'll get weird between us. They already are!"

"I don't know why I did it, and it didn't mean anything," Peter snapped. "And that's all I have to say about it."

"Pete," Johnny said. "It's pretty obvious after the kiss that you're attracted to me. And I haven't really made it a secret that I think you're pretty hot too, so maybe MJ's right, maybe we should talk—"

"Lies," Peter said, cutting him off. "I don't think you're attractive. I don't have time for romance or any of that crap right now, Johnny. I'm not ready for a relationship yet. I'm still hung up on Gwen. I don't want to date you. Drop this," he added warningly. "If you don't, it'll only end badly. For both of us."

"Okay," Johnny said quietly, trying to hide how disappointed he was. "If that's really what you want."

"It's what I want," Peter confirmed.

"Okay," Johnny said. "Then that's how it'll be."

They went back to watching the TV again in silence, Johnny waiting to see if Peter would say anything else.

After what felt like hours, Johnny gave up. "Uh, I think I'm just gonna...go now," he said, standing up awkwardly.

"Suit yourself," Peter said coldly, not looking away from the TV, as though he couldn't even bear to look at Johnny. "I don't care what you do."

"Right," Johnny said, put off by Peter's strange coldness, and trying to be friendly with him. "I'll, uh, see you Thursday. I'll bring you coffee in the morning."

Peter shrugged silently.

Johnny was already at the door, gripping the brass doorknob tightly when he heard Peter say, "Don't mention it again. It never happened, and it's _never_ happening again."

Johnny watched his fist tighten around the doorknob. He didn't turn around, keeping his back to Peter in the hopes that he couldn't see the disappointment Johnny was sure was written all over his face. He hoped to god it wasn't too obvious in the way his shoulders sagged when he heard Peter's words. "I won't," he replied as coolly as he could, trying to keep his voice from shaking as obviously as his hands were. "If that's what you want."

"It's exactly what I want," he heard Peter snap.

Johnny gave a curt, silent nod, not trusting himself to speak without his voice breaking, not even knowing if Peter was looking at him, then twisted the doorknob and walked out without looking back.

He hardly registered making his way down the several long flights of stairs in Peter's apartment building.

* * *

Johnny made a solitary figure as he wandered aimlessly through dark city streets, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans. The somber hues of his clothing and bright gold of his hair stood out starkly against the pure white snow that blanketed the sidewalk and drifted down lazily from the heavens, visible only in the yellow light of the streetlamps and the light of the few liquor stores and shops that were open so late.

As he walked, he listened to the lonely sounds of his own footsteps, to the way the snow crunched beneath his feet, and watched his breath mist and vanish forlornly in the cool night air.

He may have been impervious to the wintry wind that was ripping through the city, whistling through the barren branches of the trees that graced the city sidewalks, but he still felt its icy claws tearing through his insides, leaving jagged, bloody wounds he wasn't sure would ever heal.

Lost in his thoughts, he paid little attention to where his wandering feet were taking him. He was astonished to look up and find that he'd wound his way all the way over to Central Park without realizing it. He sat down heavily on a snow-covered bench, everything around him silent and still, and remained there, motionless, in the dark and the cold, for hours.

He watched a pale sun rise in a cold sky, struggling to fight off the desolate, hollowed out feeling that kept clawing its way into his throat.

Unable to sit still any longer, he flew up in an abrupt burst of flame and heat, scorching the earth beneath his feet as though he never wanted to return to it. He flew into the cloudy white sky as fast as he could, racing towards the hidden warmth of the sun, trying desperately to rid himself of the ice coursing through his veins, to shake the feeling that he'd lost something inexpressibly precious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter should be up around July 1st. 
> 
> My apologies for all the delays!


	3. An Inhuman Wedding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to everyone for all of the delays, but here it is, at long last!
> 
> Enjoy!

Johnny's feet dangled over the side of an old, weather-beaten brick building, an untouched pile of hot dogs and a soda carefully arranged next to him.

He flicked his hand open and shut absentmindedly, lighting it on fire when it opened, extinguishing it when it closed, as his eyes busily scanned the city skyline.

He had the air of a man who was waiting for something, and somewhat impatiently at that.

The night air was brisk and cool, but as the days lengthened and the cold and rainy days of spring gave way to the golden days of summer, the nights grew ever warmer.

Johnny didn't mind the cold, personally. Couldn't feel it at all, most of the time. The fires that broiled unceasingly beneath his skin made sure of that.

Despite his imperviousness to the cold, he preferred the summer.

The clothes were better, that was for certain. During the winter, everyone insisted on wrapping themselves in so many layers of clothing they reminded Johnny of the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man, and that, he'd decided, was definitely not hot.

Summer activities were undoubtedly preferable as well. 

Man, oh man, but Johnny had some plans for  _this_  summer. For himself and for a certain Webheaded Wallcrawler, anyways.

Johnny smiled to himself when he heard a familiar thwipping sound off in the distance, growing closer with every beat of Johnny's heart, almost as though it was what was calling Peter closer.

Johnny was perfectly aware of the fact that this was one of Peter's nightly patrol routes. He absolutely did not know that because he'd followed Peter around, or something creepy and pathetic like that.

No, he knew it for heroic reasons, because he'd made Peter hand over a list of all of his standard patrol routes after Peter had gone missing for what was undoubtedly one of the worst weeks of Johnny's life, and Johnny, frantic with worry, hadn't had the slightest clue where to begin his search. He'd combed the city tirelessly, with the help of the rest of his family and other superheroes whose loyalty and affection Peter had earned.

It turned out, much to Johnny's surprise, that there were quite a few. 

Peter always made it sound as though he were so alone, so unloved, so without help or recourse, but as Johnny had looked around the Baxter Building, at the twenty-odd superheroes who'd willingly put their own lives on hold to help save their pal Spidey, he was truly baffled as to how Peter'd arrived at that conclusion.

Spider-Man was wanted for murder, and yet here they were, ready and willing to help him, perhaps having realized that Spider-Man was not the sort of man who could ever knowingly take a life.

Eventually, after far more time than Johnny was entirely happy with, Daredevil'd burst in and announced that he'd heard rumors that Spidey was being held in an abandoned warehouse over by the docks.

(And by rumors, Johnny understood that Daredevil meant that he'd beat several criminals to within an inch of their life. Normally, he might have a bit of a problem with that, but this was Peter's life on the line, and he found that couldn't bring himself to care.)

Of course, Johnny'd thought wryly. That was just like Peter. Dull abandoned warehouses. When the FF got kidnapped, at least they got cool spaceships. He should have been expecting this, really.

AIM, it turned out, was responsible for the kidnapping. Not only of Peter, but a couple of other superpowered individuals. For scientific study, they claimed.

Johnny'd found it very, very satisfying to punch a couple of them in their silly beekeeper's helmets, instead of using his flames.

Wolverine'd managed to get a couple of the defeated AIM agents to tell him where Spidey was (also through less than ideal methods, if Johnny was judging by the amount of screaming coming from the room Wolverine'd locked them all away in, safe from Captain America's judgmental, disapproving face), and he, Daredevil, and Johnny'd bust in there together.

(Johnny'd insisted on that specific extraction team because Daredevil and Wolverine, thanks to their abilities, both knew Spidey's secret identity, as it turned out, and Johnny doubted whether AIM had bothered to keep Peter's mask on.)

Peter'd looked exhausted and battered and bloody. He still had all of his visible appendages, at least. Johnny'd breathed in his first free and unencumbered lungful of air in days, no longer feeling like he was suffocating.

Between them, Daredevil and Wolverine'd managed to easily take out the half-dozen AIM agents in the room, which was a good thing, because Johnny had no intention of taking his eyes off of Peter for a second, now that he'd finally found him. Wolverine had taken one look at the expression on Johnny's face, rolled his eyes, muttered something about finding someone new to punch, and run off back towards the explosions. Daredevil'd given an amused snort, shaken his head at Johnny, and followed Wolverine's lead.

Peter'd smiled up at Johnny, as well as he could with his face in the state it was, and said in a voice so weak it broke Johnny's heart that he'd known all along Johnny would find him. Johnny'd tried to smile back, although it was difficult, he found, with his chest feeling as though it were in some kind of vise, and replied that it meant that Peter was finally getting smarter.

Peter'd tried to laugh, although it rapidly deteriorated into a coughing fit, filled with more blood than Johnny was comfortable with, given that the amount he was comfortable with was zero, and clung tightly to Johnny's hand for comfort. 

He didn't let it go again for hours, not until the painkillers the doctor gave him dragged him into a fitful sleep.

The Avengers had wanted to keep him in their medical bay for observation overnight, but Peter'd refused, voice difficult to understand through the mask, it was so weak, and Johnny had carried him back to his apartment, where Mary Jane was waiting anxiously for news on Peter's condition.

Johnny and Mary Jane had both slept curled around Peter that night, both unable to bring themselves to leave his side after  they'd just barely gotten him back. 

Johnny'd stayed awake long after both Mary Jane and Peter's breath had evened out, taking this rare opportunity to study Peter while unobserved. Peter's face looked so heartbreakingly young when he slept, all of the lines of worry and sorrow and tension that typically filled it smoothed away.

Johnny'd found himself wishing Peter's face would always look this at peace, and he found himself wishing even more that he could be the one to make that happen.

The tenor of their relationship had shifted imperceptibly since the night of the kiss, Johnny readily acknowledged to himself. Not in any way they ever discussed openly, because they didn't talk about it, not ever. 

Johnny had avoided Peter for days after that night, struggling to parse through the confusing whirl of emotions it had brought into being—and perhaps some that had always been there, lingering beneath the surface of their relationship, unseen and unmarked by both parties. But now Johnny had taken notice, and he hadn't the faintest idea what to do about it.

His separation from Peter came to an abrupt end after Peter cornered him in his garage one day, looking as though he hadn't slept well or eaten in weeks, and apologized profusely for the way he'd spoken to Johnny, explaining that he'd merely been frightened, and that he knew that he shouldn't have lashed out at Johnny the way he had, not when Johnny hadn't done anything wrong.

He'd said it so earnestly, so contritely, that Johnny had simply felt compelled to accept his apology, if somewhat hesitantly. He knew that Peter was rather proud, and that such an apology must have cost him a great deal.

Despite both of their best efforts, their relationship had continued to be strained for weeks.

Mary Jane had seemed remarkably reluctant to get involved in smoothing things over. She told Johnny, in confidence, that she'd already meddled once, and she'd nearly ruined everything between them, so now she was keeping her nose strictly out of their business. 

Apart from lightheartedly teasing Peter in private, because he needed someone to help put things into perspective, to help him realize that everything wasn't always life and death, every now and then.

Peter had been colder towards Johnny at first, more withdrawn, more standoffish, almost as though he feared that opening up to Johnny as he had before would lead inexorably to places to which he had no desire to venture. If Johnny unthinkingly said anything even slightly flirtatious, Peter would instantly become skittish, tense, and uncomfortable, so Johnny'd worked hard to refrain from doing it entirely.

Eventually, after seeing that Johnny was apparently as reluctant to bring up the subject of the kiss or the possibility of dating as he was, he'd grown warmer and friendlier again.

Johnny, for his part, had never managed to figure out the precise nature of his feelings for Peter. He wasn't entirely sure he wanted to.

He'd come to a deeper understanding of them during his long walk in the snow the night of that fateful kiss, that was for certain.

He knew now that his feelings for Peter went far beyond the simple attraction and friendship he'd always assumed had been there.

Mostly, he was absolutely terrified that he'd gone and fallen in love with Peter, like the utter idiot he was. He knew it was a terrible idea, loving Peter, knew that Peter was definitely not interested in him, not like that, anyways, and maybe never would be.

Pining over Peter was a recipe for disaster, for misery, for heartbreak, and Johnny couldn't bear to have his heart broken, not again.

Losing Crystal had been one of the most painful experiences of his life—he suspected that losing Peter would be far more devastating. Peter and his slow and steady friendship been a crucial part of Johnny's life for years now, as Spider-Man at least.

If he was being exceptionally honest with himself, he would admit that long before the kiss, he had already begun to find it disconcerting, the way he always knew where Peter was relative to him in any room they were in.

He was so painfully aware of Peter's presence, his moods, his smiles, without even wanting to be.

There were delicate threads, knotted around Johnny's heart, that had somehow, inexplicably, become entangled around Peter. That was the only way Johnny could think of to explain the odd pull he felt.

It was as though everyone else was in black-and-white, and Peter was in full, vibrant color. Peter had a complexity, a concreteness, that no one else had.

Slowly but surely over the past few months, without Johnny so much as realizing it, Peter had come to occupy the center of Johnny's life.

Johnny couldn't help but think of the old metaphor of the moth and the flame, even though, in this case, ironically enough, it was Peter who was the flame, Johnny the moth.

Yes, the more he thought about it, the more apt the metaphor seemed. Peter was a raging, burning flame, consuming Johnny and everything he had to offer, giving him only dust and ash in return, and Johnny welcomed every tortuous second of it. 

Johnny simply reveled in being near Peter. Being in his presence was sheer, unfettered agony; it was, somehow, simultaneously the most heavenly bliss. 

The slightest brush of Peter's hand against his was enough to make Johnny feel as though his skin were on fire—there were several times when he'd had to look down and check to make sure that was not, in fact, the case.

It was addictive, being near Peter, like some kind of drug—heady, sweet, intoxicating.

When he was away from Peter nowadays, he seemed to spend much of his time thinking about him, plotting out ways to draw out one of those shy, hesitant, but wholly genuine smiles Peter seemed to reserve only for Johnny.

So if friendship was all Peter was willing to give Johnny, it would have to be enough.

Still, he knew there would come a day when things would have to change or he'd have to move on, when this current state of affairs would no longer be enough to keep him sated.

But for now? For now it was enough. Seeing Peter quietly content, warm, smiling, it was enough. 

Johnny leaned forward, watching the corner the web-slinging sound was coming from intently, feeling his heart begin to race at the thought of seeing Peter again. 

Eventually, Peter rounded the corner, dressed in his red-and-blue Spidey suit. When he got close enough, Johnny sent up a column of fire. Peter's head whipped over as he spotted Johnny.

He swung up to the ledge in a long, graceful arc, landing next to Johnny with a dull thud. 

"Hey, buddy!" Peter greeted Johnny from one of his classic spider-crouches. "Whatcha doin' here?"

"Waitin' for a certain spider to come along," Johnny grinned, the elation he always felt at being around Peter rushing to his head. He pointed at the hot dogs and soda. "Brought you a snack," he added. "Well, snack for you. Enough food to feed a small army for everyone else."

It was surprising to him, always, how easy this was. The banter, the rapport, between him and Peter. Everything else between them might change completely, but this? Johnny was certain that this would  _never_  change, and he was grateful for it.

Peter stared at the hot dogs without moving for a beat. Johnny could already tell he'd done something wrong, he just didn't know what it was.

"Which hot dog stand did you get these from?" Peter asked skeptically.

Johnny sighed internally, and then shot Peter an exasperated look. "Your favorite one. You don't need to lecture me again on which are the best hot dog stands in New York City. Really, please don't."

Johnny'd just about memorized that speech, he'd heard it so many times, and he had no desire to hear it again, even if he had, at first, been rather taken by the way Peter's face lit up when he talked about hot dogs, of all things. 

Peter's face was currently very far from looking lit up, Johnny was sure, or it would be if Johnny could see under his mask. Johnny liked to think that he'd gotten very good at reading Peter's body language and facial expressions, even under the mask.

"You mean you got these from Joe?" Peter said, not sounding very pleased. "That's my  _old_  favorite. Now it's all about Sthaneshwar's, over by City Hall."

Johnny threw up his hands. "How the hell was I supposed to know that?" he asked. "Did you ever mention this to me?"

"No," Peter conceded. "But you could've asked first."

"I don't think you understand the concept of surprises," Johnny said flatly.

"Oh, I understand it," Peter said. "I just am less than a fan."

"Oh my god, Johnny, thank you so much for going through all of the trouble of buying me a gajillion hot dogs and hangin' out waitin' for me to bring me food!" Johnny said sarcastically, doing a terrible imitation of Peter. "Because we both know you have nothing better to do."

"Well," Peter said, and Johnny could just hear the amusement bubbling beneath the surface, "you don't, do you?"

Johnny shot him a murderous glare. "Yes," he hissed. "It just so happens that I do have better things to do, you Webheaded jerk."

"Really?" Peter said disbelievingly, tilting his head. "Like what?"

"I dunno, like saving the universe?" Johnny shot back. "Which I do regularly? The FF have been pretty busy lately, if you haven't noticed. With, like, planet-eaters and stuff, Mr. The Highlight Of My Week Is Stopping A Mugger."

"Okay, okay," Peter said, holding up both hands to signal his surrender. "You win." He settled down next to Johnny, swinging his feet over the ledge too. "Hand me a hot dog, yeah?" He held out a hand expectantly.

Johnny glanced at the hot dogs and then back at Peter. "I thought you hated these hot dogs," he said flatly.

"They're still good, they're just not my favorite," Peter replied casually, as thought it wasn't the single most infuriating thing anyone had ever said, hand still outstretched and waiting.

"So you were just giving me a hard time for the hell of it?" Johnny said, slapping a hot dog viciously into Peter's hand.

Peter yanked his mask off. Johnny discovered he was smirking.

He wasn't particularly suprised by that discovery, but he  _was_  annoyed.

"Uh-huh," Peter replied smugly. "Pretty much."

"You're the worst ever," Johnny informed him, trying to convey the depth of his annoyance to Peter. 

"Uh-huh," Peter replied, still smirking, biting into his hot dog. He grimaced, wrinkling his nose at it in disgust. "These are cold and gross."

Johnny tossed both of his hands in the air. "You were due here about half an hour ago! Don't blame me for your lateness."

"There was a robbery over on Fifth," Peter said, taking another bite. "I couldn't help it."

"You're eating it anyways," Johnny observed, exasperated, narrowing his eyes and trying not to think about how satisfying it would be to light a fire under Peter's feet right about now. 

"They're still hot dogs," Peter said defensively. "You know how I feel about hot dogs. I would—"

"Marry them if they were human," Johnny finished for him, waving a hand dismissively. "Yeah, yeah. Heard it before."

"Well, I would," Peter insisted stubbornly. 

"You are so weird, dude," Johnny said, shaking his head. "Like, the fact that you can crawl on walls isn't even the weirdest thing about you, and that's sayin' something, cause the wall thing is pretty weird."

"Like you're any less weird," Peter retorted. "You willingly light yourself on fire on a regular basis. Sane people don't do that."

"Sane people also don't throw themselves off of skyscrapers regularly," Johnny replied. 

"Guess we're both total weirdos then," Peter allowed.

"We'd probably better stick together, I guess," Johnny smiled.

"Maybe," Peter said. "Until you get tired of looking at my ugly mug, anyhow."

"Too late," Johnny teased. "You should probably keep that mask on from now on so I don't have to see it anymore."

"Yeah, about that," Peter responded playfully. "Don't suppose you'd consider gettin' one?"

"And deprive the world of chances to look at my gorgeous face?" Johnny scoffed. "Not likely."

Peter sighed, mock-disappointed. "Too bad. I swear, dude, it's startin' to give me nightmares. And somehow I don't think I'm the only one."

"Yeah," Johnny said awkwardly, wanting to check and see how Peter was doing without sounding too concerned about it. "How are you doin' with those, by the way? The real ones, I mean, not the jokey ones. They gettin' any better?"

"Oh," Peter said, taken aback by the sudden change in tone. "Uh, well, I don't, um, they're not every night anymore or anything, but they still happen sometimes."

"Good," Johnny said, nodding approvingly. "That's better than before. You know, if you ever wanna talk about them, I'm, you know, here."

"Yeah," Peter said, shifting uncomfortably. "Okay. Yeah. If I ever need to talk about them, I, uh, I know who to go to. For talking about things. Nightmare things."

"Right," Johnny agreed. "Right."

They fell into an awkward silence.

Johnny diverted his attention from the rather thrilling fact that Peter was with him, here, now, by focusing instead on the cool breeze wafting through his hair, but that only drew his focus to the sensations elicited by the heat pouring off of Peter's body in waves, washing over Johnny, making him feel dizzy and breathless, as though he were drowning in it.

"So," Johnny began, clearing his throat and struggling to clear his head of wayward, not relevant thoughts, "I, uh, actually wanted to talk to you about something."

"Yeah?" Peter said. He glanced down at his hot dog. "You're bribing me," he suddenly realized. He squinted at Johnny suspiciously. "You want a favor from me, don't you?"

"Uh," Johnny said. "Yes?"

"Does it involve dangerous, potentially lethal activities?" Peter demanded. 

"No!" Johnny said.

"Well, I'm not interested then," Peter said, going back to munching on his hot dog. "Sounds boring. Boy, do you not know how to show a fella a good time."

Johnny rolled his eyes at him. "Crystal's wedding is in a couple of weeks," he said flatly. "She invited the FF, we're all going."

"Oh," Peter said. "Okay. So what does that have to do with me? I wasn't invited."

"I want you to go as my plus one," Johnny said, deciding bluntness was the best tactic.

Johnny grew alarmed at the way Peter's body instantly grew taut as a wire. "Like...as in your date?" Peter asked, voice tense. "'Cause you already know how I feel about that."

"No," Johnny corrected hastily, raising both hands placatingly. "That's not what I meant at all! I mean as a friend, just as a friend. Not a date at all. My ex-girlfriend's getting married, and, you know, I'm still single, and I just want someone to go and keep me company. It would be pathetic if I showed up alone. C'mon, we can spike Thor's mead or something. It'll be fun. If you don't go, I'm just going to have to find a girl I hardly know to go with me. I'd rather go with you."

The tension eased out of Peter's shoulders. He bit his bottom lip, considering Johnny's words. "But I absolutely would not be your date?" Peter checked.

Johnny rolled his eyes. "No. Not unless you wanted to, anyhow."

"I don't," Peter said shortly. 

"And I am totally cool with that. Does that mean you're going, then?" Johnny replied hopefully. "Moral support, dude. Superbros need to stick together."

"Fine," Peter agreed. "I'll go. But only because you're being all pathetic and giving me your best sad eyes."

"Yes!" Johnny crowed victoriously, accompanying his words with an enthusiastic fist pump. "I was hoping you'd say that."

"You were hoping I'd think you were sad and pathetic?" Peter asked, squinting.

"Yep," Johnny said. "If it meant you'd agree to go with me, yep. Absolutely."

"You're  _so_  weird," Peter lamented, shaking his head at him.

"Thanks," Johnny said, very seriously, slapping Peter's back a little too roughly. "That means a lot, bro."

Peter's hot dog was jarred out of his hand. He watched its descent sadly. "Aw," he said. "My hot dog."

Johnny rolled his eyes. "Dude, there's like a dozen more where that came from."

"Only a dozen?" Peter said disapprovingly. "Torchy, the next time you bribe me, I expect at least twenty."

* * *

"Ya managed ta snag a date yet fer Crystal's weddin', squirt?" Ben inquired the next night at dinner. Ben'd decided he felt like using the grill, and fixed them all his scrumptious, juicy steaks. It was quite an occasion when Ben felt like cooking. Johnny enjoyed it, anyhow, more than Sue's terrible attempts at cooking. "Ya really shouldn't show up alone. No need ta let Crystal know how pathetic ye've been since she left."

"Of  _course_  I'm going with someone," Johnny said. "And I have not been pathetic, and why has everyone been saying that to me?"

"Who else has been sayin' yer pathetic, kid?" Ben asked indignantly. "Lemme know and I'll pound 'em fer ya."

"No, no," Johnny said hastily. "It's okay. Please don't hit Peter, he was only kidding."

Reed's head shot up at the mention of Peter's name. "Yes, no hitting Mr. Parker, please, Ben," he added. "He's proven to be an extremely valuable addition to my lab. Also, he's a civilian, and you shouldn't hit civilians."

"Aw, fine, Big Brain," Ben said, waving a hand dismissively. "I'll go easy on the kid fer yer sake." He turned back to Johnny. "So, kid, who's goin' with ya? Lemme guess. She's tall, blonde, gorgeous, mebbe a supermodel? You've always liked supermodels."

"Can you find me someone who doesn't?" Johnny scoffed. He averted his gaze before adding, somewhat evasively, "But, uh, no, I am not going with a supermodel, Benjy." 

Out of the corner of his eye, Johnny saw Reed and Sue exchange amused glances.

"This wouldn't happen to be your secret girlfriend, would it, baby brother?" Sue said. "You know, the one you won't tell us about for some reason?"

"Gah!" Johnny exclaimed, frustrated, throwing up his hands and letting his knife and fork clatter onto the table. "I've told you all a million times already—I don't  _have_  any girlfriend! Secret or otherwise."

"I, for one, find that rather difficult to believe, Johnny," Reed said casually.

"Not you too, Reed!" Johnny groaned. "I expect this from Benjy and my sister, but you? I am disappointed in you. I thought you were better than this. All old and respectable and dignified."

"I'm precisely the same age as Ben!" Reed protested, sounding a trifle offended. "I don't see why I shouldn't be able to tease you about your girlfriends as well, if I am so inclined. Besides, Sue assures me that teasing your loved ones is a sign of affection."

"That's right, dear," Sue said, patting his arm. "It absolutely is."

Johnny stared at Reed, nonplussed. "I don't know whether to be flattered that you care, or annoyed that my sister manipulated you into sinking to her level."

"Shut up, baby bro," Sue hissed, before turning to her husband and resting her chin on her hand. "Reed dear," she said, voice silky smooth, a dazzling smile plastered over her face, "why don't you explain to us why you think that Johnny has a girlfriend?"

She was practically batting her eyelashes at him, Johnny thought grumpily. That almost always worked on Reed, unless his other true love, by which Johnny of course meant science, was involved.

"Well, dear," Reed said, playing along, "I've been observing Johnny, and I noticed a few interesting new behaviors cropping up recently."

"Were you spying on me, Reed?" Johnny snapped. "Because that would  _not_  be cool. That would be the  _opposite_  of cool."

"I wasn't spying, Johnny," Reed corrected. "I was just...paying attention. I noticed a few days ago that you were drawing fiery hearts in the air. As I recall, the only other times I've ever seen you doing that was when you were dating Dorrie, and then when you were dating Crystal. Logically, that means you're probably in love with someone right now, although I suppose it doesn't necessarily mean you're dating them. I've also noticed a few telltale changes to your diet and that you've been moping around a bit lately. No," Reed said breezily, "I'm fairly certain you've at least developed feelings for this mysterious someone, if not outright love."

"Check 'nd mate, Flamebrain," Ben crowed, waving around a steak he'd speared on a giant fork. "We gotta get you involved in teasin' Johnny more often, Einstein, that was genius. Knew we'd wear ya down eventually."

"So, bro, feel like 'fessin up now?" Sue said, waggling her eyebrows at her brother.

Johnny let his head thunk against the table. "Benjy?" he said, lifting his head enough to look up at him pleadingly. "I'm gonna ask you a huge favor. Please kill me now? One punch is probably all it'd take."

"Mebbe later, kid," Ben said dismissively, attention focused on spearing a particularly troublesome potato onto his fork.

"Traitor," muttered Johnny, sagging forwards against the table. "I thought we were bros."

Ben smirked at him. "Yeah, well, watchin' ya squirm is pretty fun, Matchstick. Watchin' Stretch be the one makin' ya squirm is even funner."

Johnny shot him a withering glare. "I will  _never_  like you again. The bromance is over."

Ben's smirk turned into a grin, huge and oh so annoying.

"The hearts thing is interesting, isn't it, dear?" Sue said pensively to Reed, but Johnny knew her too well to be taken in by that, and he could tell she was trying hard not to laugh at him. "You're completely right, Johnny only  _does_  do it when he's in love. He used to do it with Crystal and with Dorrie. I'm a bit surprised that he was careless enough to do it in front of you."

Johnny simply hadn't been thinking. He'd been bored, waiting for Ben to come downstairs so they could take off for the movie they were watching together, and kind of thinking about Peter, and had started idly drawing hearts in the air with his finger.

He hadn't even realized he was doing it until he'd noticed Reed staring at him, fascinated, from over the top of the science journal he was reading.

Johnny'd quickly batted the hearts away, but, clearly, it had been too late. 

Thank god he hadn't drawn any with initials in them, or the jig would have been up.

"I'm sitting right here, you jerks!" Johnny snapped. "Stop talking about me like I'm not here!"

"That's nothin'," Ben said. "The squirt was hummin' love songs all afternoon yesterday when we was cleanin' the den. Just about drove me nuts."

"Again," Johnny scowled, arms folded across his chest. "You're a dirty traitor, and I am  _right here_."

"And you know what else?" Sue said, getting up to poke her head into the freezer. "I was looking through the freezer the other day, and I noticed this." She yanked out an ice cream container. "He bought chocolate fudge brownie ice cream," she said significantly, waggling it in front of everyone.

"Ooo," Ben said, eyes widening. "He  _is_  a goner on this dame if he's eatin'  _that_. The calories! His figure!"

Reed ducked his head, and Johnny swore his shoulders were shaking with badly stifled laughter. "You know," Reed told Sue, and yes, damn him, he was definitely laughing. "This actually  _is_  rather entertaining."

Sigh. It was official. Johnny hated all of them right now. He wondered idly if the Avengers were looking for any new members.

"I hate all of you," Johnny announced, glaring daggers at all of them. "I'm not dating anyone, but even if I was, it would be none of your business. Also, sis, put that back before it melts. I was eatin' that, y'know."

"Aw," Ben said, "don't be like that, squirt. Y'know ya love it when we tease ya. It means we love ya."

"Yes, Johnny," Reed agreed. "I seem to recall you teasing Sue and I rather a lot when we started dating. Something about how it was like being forced to watch a soap opera you had no desire to see?"

"Okay, I did say that," Johnny admitted. "But you guys have to admit that this is because I'm the youngest. You're all boring old people in committed relationships, so you can all only live vicariously through me and my awesome dating life."

"Hey!" Ben scowled. "Who ya callin' old? Stretch 'n' Suzie 'n' me are in the prime of our very long lives. Ain't we, Stretch?"

"Indeed we are, Benjamin," Reed said pompously. "I most heartily concur."

"Hah!" Johnny said triumphantly. "Neither of you said you weren't boring! You finally admitted it, and I win everything!"

"We aren't boring," Sue said indignantly, eating some of Johnny's ice cream, and ignoring the way Johnny glared at her for it. She always stole all of his food, the rat, even though he suspected she mostly just threw the unhealthy stuff away, even though he was  _nineteen_  now, and she didn't have the right to do it anymore. "How are we boring? We spent all day fighting off roaming hordes of dinosaurs that escaped from the Savage Lands. Most people would think that was interesting."

"Yeah," Johnny said. "But then you get home, and you all do boring stuff. I'm the only one who has a social life."

"Yeah, kid?" Ben said. "Don't think we haven't noticed that mosta yer social life involves that Parker kid and that gorgeous red-headed pal o' his."

"We have fun together, and anyways I totally talk to other people," Johnny asserted.

"People like your secret girlfriend?" Sue asked teasingly.

"You know," Johnny told her, shaking his head disapprovingly, "everyone thinks you're all sweet and innocent cause of the blond hair and the blue eyes. If only they knew how awful you really are, especially to me."

"If anyone knew about half of the scrapes you get into, they'd love you even less," Sue shot back. 

"Phfft," Johnny said. "You kiddin'? Me with a bad boy image? I'd probably be more popular than ever. Girls lining up around the block, all beggin' for a shot at the Human Torch."

"Ah," Sue said. "But then wouldn't your secret girlfriend be jealous?"

"I don't have one," Johnny insisted firmly. "I swear to god, I don't."

"Lemme guess, then," Ben said, ignoring him. "Yer takin' yer one true love to Crystal's weddin'." Johnny knew from the smirk on Ben's face that wherever this was going, it wasn't good. "I think we all know who I'm talkin' about. The person we've all seen you moonin' over. You know. Spider-Man."

"Shut up, you jerk!" Johnny hollered leaping to his feet and flaming on. "I do not  _moon_  over Spidey!"

"Johnny, sit down and flame off before you set the house on fire," Sue ordered. "Again."

Johnny glared at her resentfully, but eventually complied.

"But Ben does have a point, you know," Sue couldn't resist adding once Johnny'd sat back down. "You've always been a little bit nuts about him."

Johnny's mouth dropped open indignantly. "I am not nuts about that  _loser_!" he bellowed. This was all a bit too close to the mark for comfort, even if he was fairly certain none of them believed this was at all true.

He was mostly hoping they wouldn't bring up the frantic week-long search for Spidey the last time he went missing. Or how he'd disappeared all night after flying off with him, cause, yeah, that might look a little suspicious from their perspective.

"Really?" Reed said skeptically. "Then it must have been some other Jonathan Storm who had his room decorated in Spider-Man memorabilia."

Okay, so maybe this shameful period of his life was more embarrassing.

"Oh my god!" Sue tittered, pressing a hand to her mouth. "I'd forgotten all about that! The Spidey sheets and the quilt and the little figurines."

"The pajamas 'n' the posters," Ben added.

"The stuffed doll," Reed reminisced.

"It was  _adorable_ ," Sue said. "I think we have pictures somewhere. You know, perhaps Spidey would like to see them."

"No!" Johnny screeched, horrified. "You wouldn't! He would never stop makin' fun of me, not ever! You cannot seriously be that cruel!"

"Then tell us who yer takin' ta Crystal's weddin'," Ben said. "C'mon, out with it. We're gonna find out sooner or later, you know."

"If you must know, I am taking a friend, by which I mean Peter. Who is a dude, and who I don't have feelings for," Johnny informed them.

Johnny was rather surprised when the other three members of the FF puzzlingly exchanged what could only be described as very meaningful glances with each other.

"Stop doing that!" he hollered, pointing accusingly at them. "I totally hate it when you all do that!"

"We didn't mean anything by it," Sue smiled brightly. "We are all very happy Peter will be joining us. I, for one, am looking forward to getting to know him better. Why don't you bring him around here more often? You should invite him and his parents over to dinner someday."

"His parents are dead," Johnny said shortly. "His aunt and uncle raised him."

"Oh," Sue said, faltering. "Alright, invite them, then."

"His uncle's dead too," Johnny said, almost vindictively. "He was murdered a few years ago."

"That poor boy," Sue murmured. "So invite his aunt. Please tell me she, at least, is still alive. You saw her last week, didn't you?"

"Yeah," Johnny said. "She is, and she's awesome. Fine, I'll see if Pete's up for it."

Ben held up a single, thick, rocky finger. "One thing, kid," he said. "You still haven't explained the hearts and the singin' and the ice cream."

Johnny scowled. "That is still none of your business, and it absolutely doesn't have anything to do with Peter."

"No one mentioned anything about Peter, bro," Sue said, arching an eyebrow. "Why'd you bring him up?"

"No reason," Johnny said hastily. "Also not important. Hey, Reed, why don't you explain to us again how the new Fantasticar's engine works?"

"Hmm? Oh, well, it's rather fascinating, you see—" Reed began.

"Don't do it, Einstein!" Ben warned. "He's just tryin' ta change the subject so we don't figger out who he's datin'."

"Well, perhaps we should respect his privacy, Ben," Sue sighed. "Fun as this has been, Johnny does have the right to lie to our faces about who he's dating if he wants to, even though he doesn't need to because we all love him, and we're the ones who put a roof over his head and clothes on his back and food on the table."

"Oh no, no, no. I am impervious to your guilt trips, sis," Johnny said. "Not gonna work on me. I am way too old and smart for that."

"Dammit!" Sue said, disappointed. "That one always works."

"We could always just hire a private investigator," Reed suggested. "That would solve things quickly."

"What?" Johnny screeched. "No! No way, man! Do that and I quit the FF. You don't have the right, I don't care if you are my brother-in-law."

Reed shrugged. "Just a suggestion. Besides, we can always just have Sue follow you. It would be more economical, after all."

"That's right, we can!" Sue said eagerly. "I mean I can."

Johnny looked around helplessly at all of their very serious faces. "Please tell me you're all kidding."

They all stared back at him, faces admirably blank, until Sue snorted. Reed tutted at her disapprovingly.

"I'm sorry!" she told him laughingly. "I couldn't help myself!"

"Of course we were joking, Johnny," Reed said. "Although I have had to talk your sister out of following you on various occasions, so you're welcome."

Johnny's mouth dropped open. "Sue!" he shouted. "Not cool, sis!"

"You get into trouble a lot," Sue said defensively. "Sometimes it's just easier to follow you around and be there when it starts."

"It's  _my_  trouble!" he yelled. "If I want your help, I'll ask you for it! You have  _got_  to stop being so overprotective all the time!"

"But you're so  _young_ ," she lamented. "I remember when you were born, you were so  _small_  and fragile and cute. It's just hard to see you as anything other than that tiny baby sometimes."

"Well, I'm not a baby anymore, and you gotta remember that, sis!" Johnny shot back.

"I know," Sue sighed, defeated. "I know. Forgive me, bro, it's just hard sometimes, doing what we do, and knowing you could get hurt any time, and that I maybe won't be able to be there to save you. Look at what happened to Franklin. Thank god he's alright now, but it just makes you want to keep a tighter hold on the people you love. Which for me is the people sitting at this table."

"Aw," Ben said, wrapping an arm around Sue's shoulders. "I think it's huggin' time."

"No!" Johnny barked, not at all appeased. "Sue, I get that you get scared of losing me sometimes, I do too. But you gotta respect my privacy, okay?"

Sue rolled her eyes. "Fine," she muttered, pulling away from Ben and jabbing angrily at her salad. "No more following you around."

"No more?" Johnny said indignantly. "Does that mean you actually  _have_?"

"Uh," Sue said, wincing. "No?"

Johnny face-palmed. " _So_  not cool, sis! Don't ever do it again!"

"Fine," she said. "Promise."

* * *

"Flash is coming back into town next weekend, Tiger," MJ said to Peter as they strolled through the park. "On temporary leave before he ships out again. Couple of us are takin' him out for dinner and dancin', if you wanna join us. He's going overseas, and we don't know when he'll be back."

Or  _if_  he'll be back, she didn't say. He was most likely going into an active combat zone, after all.

Sure, his relationship with Peter was a rocky one at best, but they'd arrived at something resembling a truce in the days since they'd graduated from high school, and at the very least tolerated each other's existence.

Mary Jane didn't know if they'd ever go so far as to actually consider each other friends, or if they even should, given how unforgivably cruel Flash, popular jock, had been to Peter, lonely, unpopular nerd, in high school.

Encouraging Peter to socialize with other people his own age—it was all a part of her diabolical plan to help Peter continue to grow more comfortable interacting with others as Peter Parker.

When he put on his mask, he had all the confidence in the world, it seemed like. Take it off, and he grew quieter, more uncertain, more uncomfortable with himself.

"Ooo," Peter winced apologetically. "Would if I could, but I can't."

"Why not?" MJ said, licking at her strawberry ice cream cone, one arm hooked through Peter's. "You and the Flamebrain busy?"

Peter glared at her over the top of his ice cream cone. It might have been a little intimidating if he hadn't had a smidge of ice cream on his left cheek. "Stop talking about us like we're a couple."

"Well, I wasn't, but it's interesting that you keep thinking I am," MJ said, struggling to bite back a laugh. "Are you finally developing some degree of self-awareness?"

"I'm totally self-aware," Peter said snidely. "You're just seeing things that aren't there."

"Denial," MJ coughed into her hand.

Peter glared at her; she smiled back winningly, certain he'd heard her.

" _There's no denial_ ," Peter hissed.

"Okay, Tiger, if that's the way you want to see it," MJ said pleasantly.

"That's the way it is," Peter said firmly, mouth pursed into a tight line.

MJ made a noncommittal noise. 

She learned her lesson about the dangers of pushing Peter too far and too fast in his relationship with Johnny after having observed the fallout from the last time she'd been so careless as to try.

Peter'd run as fast and as far as he could from his problems, burying himself under his mask, hiding from his life as Peter Parker. It had taken her days to track him down, and even longer to convince him he needed to eat something, sleep, and then muster up the courage to face Johnny and apologize.

Since then, she'd refrained from encouraging Peter to start dating Johnny. He'd get there on his own, she hoped, in his own time, so she did nothing more than tease him occasionally, but never in front of Johnny.

Everything had nearly fallen apart between those two, and would have, she was certain, if she hadn't interfered to solve a problem that, admittedly, she'd had no small part in causing. To be fair, she'd been as surprised as anyone when Peter kissed Johnny, and had perhaps rashly thought that it was a sign that he was finally, finally ready to move on from Gwendy. 

She felt a sort of responsibility to look after Peter, and it wasn't just for his sake, even though she did rather adore him.

No, she wanted to make sure he was as content as she could manage for the sake of the woman who had been her best friend, bar none, until her dying breath. She meant Gwen, of course, whose absence she still felt keenly.

Gwen would want Peter to be happy, MJ was certain of that. She wouldn't want him to mourn her forever, nor would she want him tear his own personal life to shreds over his guilt at her death. 

Mary Jane knew Gwen, better than practically anyone, and she felt a responsibility to carry out what she felt would have been Gwen's wishes. It was in her memory, her honor, that she was so dedicated to helping Peter. 

It was likewise motivated by Mary Jane's own fear of losing the people she loved. She'd lost too many people over the course of her brief life—Gwen, Harry, her father, whose death was no great loss, if she was being honest, her mother, who she had loved, and even her sister, who, though still living, had never fully forgiven her for refusing to surrender her dreams for the sake of her family.

MJ had watched her mother and her sister surrender their dreams for the sake of domestic bliss, only to be forced to endure years of neglect, abuse, and abandonment at the hands of their spouses.

MJ would be damned before she made the same mistakes. She was going places. She was going to have a career, her name in lights over Broadway, bright and gleaming, and nothing, and no one, was going to stand in her way, not until everyone on the planet knew the name Mary Jane Watson. 

Right at this moment, though, she was far more focused on figuring out what Peter was trying to hide from her. She'd promised herself she wouldn't meddle, but that didn't mean she couldn't  _pry_. Knowledge was power, after all.

"You never answered my question, y'know," she pointed out, thinking it wise to divert the conversation. "What're you two up to?"

"Well," Peter hedged. "It's really not what it sounds like."

"What does it sound like?" she asked, sounding intrigued. 

Peter muttered something underneath his breath, but Mary Jane didn't quite catch it. "I'm sorry," she said, cupping one hand around her ear. "Didn't catch that."

"We're going to a wedding together!" Peter repeated, a little too loudly. "With the FF. In the Himalayas."

"You're going away for the weekend with his family to a wedding," MJ said flatly, arching an eyebrow. "Well, yeah, that  _does_  sound pretty date-like. Are you absolutely positive it isn't?"

"I know," Peter grumbled. "But I swear it's not. It's Crystal's wedding. He wants me there as, like, his moral support."

"I'm sure the sight of you in a tux will do a lot to boost his morale," MJ said airily.

"Shut up," Peter muttered ill-temperedly.

MJ hid a smile behind her ice cream cone.

* * *

Peter walked into the FF's residential quarters bright and early the day of the wedding, still stifling a yawn, a sports bag full of his luggage for the weekend slung over his shoulder. 

Johnny'd texted him to come over early the next morning, since he was lending Peter one of his spare tuxes, and Peter still needed to change into it. It was lucky he and Johnny were the same height, even if Johnny was—not that Peter would ever admit it to him—more muscular than Peter.

He hadn't been to the FF's living quarters very often as Peter Parker, although he frequented it quite often as Spider-Man. 

It was just a bit awkward, he felt, to see his boss, Dr. Richards, in his own home after work. Johnny didn't seem to mind not hanging out with Peter around the FF, so they wound up spending most of their time at Peter's place, away from the prying eyes of their families.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. Johnny'd begun hanging out with Aunt May fairly regularly—Peter was almost completely certain that they spent time together even when he wasn't there. A few odds and ends, knickknacks, furniture had begun appearing all over Aunt May's apartment, and Peter was absolutely positive that Johnny'd had a hand in picking them out.

He loved shopping, Aunt May loved shopping—it wasn't much of a stretch to believe that they went shopping together.

The whole situation was mostly Peter's fault, he had to admit. He'd walked right into it.

It had all begun when Johnny'd led Aunt May to believe he and Peter were dating as part of a prank. 

Peter'd hauled him back to Aunt May's as soon as he could to get him to explain what had really happened.

Of course, when Peter'd gotten to Sunday night family dinner, Aunt May had been so completely overjoyed at the fact that Peter was dating again and finally over Gwen that Peter simply hadn't had the heart to tell her the truth.

Johnny'd agreed to keep playing the part of Peter's boyfriend at Sunday night dinners—although Peter hadn't exactly realized the cost when he suggested it. Johnny had taken it as the perfect opportunity to prank Peter.

Peter grudgingly had to admit that it was actually a rather good prank. One of Johnny's best, even if it was kind of a nightmare for Peter. 

Johnny got Aunt May to show him old baby pictures of Peter and talked her into telling him all of the most embarrassing stories she could think of from when he was a kid. Got her to teach him how to cook all of Peter's favorite dishes too.

Worst of all, he bafflingly managed to seem genuinely interested in it all.

Peter was impressed at his acting abilities. He honestly hadn't thought the Flamebrain had it in him.

Some Sundays, Peter'd show up to find Johnny there in the kitchen, one of Aunt May's frilly aprons wrapped around his waist, covered in flour, and learn that Johnny'd been there for hours, helping Aunt May bake pies and cook dinner, and regaling her in return with tales of the FF's most dazzling space adventures.

Peter knew Johnny legitimately adored Aunt May and her cooking, and that Aunt May adored him back. That wasn't part of the prank, he was sure of that.

But then Johnny'd started "accidentally" letting fake embarrassing information about Peter slip, staging the most absurd quarrels, and calling him the most ridiculous pet names he could think of. (The worst pet name of them all, which was of course Johnny's favorite, was lovebug. Peter was positive Johnny called him that because he knew Peter would hate it on principle, seeing as how spiders weren't bugs, they were  _arachnids_. As Peter'd informed Johnny  _repeatedly_.)

Peter did find it shocking and maybe a little bit flattering that Johnny seemed to know so very much about Peter. Everything from his favorite pizza toppings to his least favorite pet peeves.

Peter'd had no idea Johnny'd been paying that much attention.

They were, much to Peter's great chagrin, very convincing as a couple, as it turned out.

Peter found it all a bit unnerving, really.

Peter was startled out of his reverie when Reed went barreling past him, fixing a cufflink, a couple of clean diapers wedged under his arm.

"Dr. Richards!" Peter called.

Reed stopped in his tracks and looked around, frowning, attempting to discover the source of the voice. Eventually his eyes landed on Peter. His lips stretched into a wide, delighted grin. "Ah!" he said. "Mr. Parker! So happy you could join us. Looking for Johnny, I imagine?"

"Yep," Peter said, nodding. "Any idea where he is?"

"His bedroom, I suspect," Reed replied. "Up the stairs, second door on the right. It's the room the loud music is coming from, you can't miss it."

"Thanks, Dr. Richards," Peter said with a small smile, and started running up the stairs.

"Oh, and Peter?" Reed called after him.

"Yeah?" Peter said, screeching to a halt.

"My wife and I are both very grateful to you for agreeing to accompany Johnny," Reed said simply. "We're so glad that the two of you found each other. Johnny's a much lonelier boy than he likes to let on."

Peter felt his face grow hot. "Uh, thanks, sir," he said. "I'm, uh, glad I found him too."

"Well, off you go," Reed said, shooing him off. "We don't want to be late."

"Yes, sir," Peter said, as he ran off to Johnny's room.

* * *

"There's your tux," Johnny said, shoving the tux he'd just grabbed from his closet at Peter. "You can use the guest room to get ready. I got dibs on the bathroom after Benjy, if you gotta fix your hair or anything."

"My hair's fine, isn't it?" Peter said, running a hand through it nervously, clutching the tux to his chest as though it were a shield, as he sat at the foot of Johnny's very untidy bed. 

Johnny squinted down at Peter's hair skeptically and made a disapproving sound. "Tell you what," he offered. "I'll help you fix it later. You're gonna wanna look your best for this. You are going to a princess' wedding, after all."

"Right," Peter said solemnly, looking down at his lap. "I forgot she was a princess." He glanced up at Johnny. "I'm just a poor nobody from Queens, Johnny. What the hell am I doin' going to a princess' weddin'?"

"You know, the bride and the groom are the ones who're supposed to get cold feet, not the guests," Johnny pointed out. 

Peter gathered himself together just enough to glare up at Johnny.

Johnny sighed and moved to sit next to him on the bed. He patted his shoulder and said reassuringly, "You'll be fine, bro. First of all, you're not a nobody, you're Spider-Man—"

"A criminal who's wanted by the police?" Peter finished for him.

"No, I was gonna say, 'a brave and awesome hero,'" Johnny answered. "And don't worry about the wedding, Pete. All you gotta do is look pretty and make sure I don't make a fool of myself."

"I can handle the looking pretty part, I think," Peter mused. "But I don't think anyone on this planet could keep you from acting like a fool."

"Hardy har har," Johnny said flatly. "Your wit astounds me."

Peter shrugged. "Call it a superpower," he said flippantly.

"I absolutely will not ever do that," Johnny huffed. "The only thing super about your wit is how awful it is."

Peter stuck out his tongue at him. "You're just jealous cause you know I'm funnier than you," he taunted.

Johnny made a face. "In your dreams, Webhead."

* * *

Peter sat in the shiny, state-of-the-art bathroom Johnny and Ben shared, staring up at the dark black tux hanging off the towel rack, wondering for the fiftieth time since Johnny'd asked him why the hell he was going to Crystal's wedding.

He didn't really know her at all, certainly not as Peter Parker.

That was why he'd decided to attend as Peter and not Spidey—no one there would know him, allowing him to slink behind a veil of anonymity whenever he pleased.

He felt so out of place here already, in the wealthy, luxurious home of the FF, that was so utterly unlike the modest home he'd been brought up in. Affluence was something to which he was profoundly unaccustomed.

With a sinking feeling, it suddenly occurred to him that the royal wedding of the Royal Princess of the Inhumans would probably be a far more sumptuous affair. He expected to feel completely out of his depth, at every turn.

Well, he wasn't going to have a good time, he reminded himself. He was going for Johnny.

That, he knew, was why he was here, in this brightly lit bathroom, sitting on the lid of the toilet and gazing trepidatiously at a tux that probably cost more than he made in a year.

Johnny'd been so kind to him, so patient throughout the last few months. Whenever Peter had felt as though he were drowning, as though he desperately needed a hand to hold, Johnny had always been there, hand outstretched. Peter truly had no idea where he would be now, if not for Johnny's patience and kindness.

It was only fair that he return the favor, now that Johnny needed him.

He did have his reservations about it all. This felt so...

MJ was right, he realized belatedly. It felt like a date, even though he knew it wasn't, even though he knew Johnny knew it wasn't.

This was exactly what he'd been afraid of ever since he'd kissed Johnny, and he still didn't know why he'd done that, still felt like kicking himself every time he thought about it. It had put ideas into Johnny's head, and maybe his own, that he hadn't wanted to ever be there.

After that night, the night of the kiss, he'd tried his best to run and hide and deny everything between him and Johnny. Cover his ears, shut his eyes, tell himself over and over that it wasn't happening, that it couldn't, that it wouldn't.

Lately, he'd begun to notice, without being able to help it, that he reacted instinctually in a rather worrisome way to Johnny's presence, his touch, his smiles, and most worryingly of all, he didn't even know when it had begun to happen, nor why he'd never taken note of it before.

A few nights ago, Johnny had reached out to hold Peter's hand, while they were sprawled out on top of the Statue of Liberty, a pizza box open between them, gazing up rapturously at the beauty of the night sky, chatting the night away.

It had been a simple act, but it had made Peter realize that he and Johnny seemed to be touching a lot these days, fingers entwined, an arm thrown carelessly over the other's shoulders. The most frightening part of it all for Peter was that it wasn't even Johnny who initiated it most of the time.

The feel of Johnny's fingers twining through his had made Peter feel, at first, content and peaceful, as though the totality of that moment was perfect, magical,  _right._

There was the smile on his face as he gazed up at the splendor of a velvety black sky, adorned with stars that shone more brightly than diamonds and a moon that bathed everything in sight with its soft silver light, the bright lights of the city twinkling at the edges of his vision, the sound of the waves washing over him, taking with it all of the worries and pain that the day had brought with it.

Johnny's presence had been no small part of what made the night feel so special, what made every night, every moment he spent with him feel as though it were worthy of being branded into Peter's memory, so that he would never, ever forget it, not a second of it.

The magic of the moment had all but shattered to pieces when Peter had caught himself feeling that way, had realized that he felt more strongly than simply hanging out with his best friend warranted.

He'd felt like the scum of the earth after that, felt as though he was letting his Gwendy down. Gwen, to whom he still owed all of his love, all of his loyalty. Gwen, who he'd silently promised to himself would be the last person, the  _only_  person, he'd ever love.

He'd reminded himself again, in no uncertain terms, that he wasn't allowed to feel anything for Johnny.

He didn't deserve Johnny anyways, and he knew that all too well. 

Peter was a mess, an emotional trainwreck, with more misery and tragedy in his past than he could possibly ever heal from.

He was broken past all hope of repair. The hopeful, loving person he'd been before Uncle Ben's death, before Gwendy's, who was certain that his future held love and joy and happiness—that person had ceased to exist, and in his place was the person Peter was now, full of burning rage, icy despair, and a terrifying darkness he could feel lingering beneath it all, polluting everything he touched.    

Johnny didn't deserve to be saddled with any of that. Johnny deserved someone who was whole, someone who was as good as he was, someone who could love him back, freely and fully.

That person was  _not_  Peter. That person was  _never_  going to be Peter. Peter knew that all too well, even if Johnny didn't. 

Maybe it could've been him, if Gwen had never plummeted to her death, if Uncle Ben had never bled out on his living room floor, if Peter'd never been bitten by that spider. 

Peter found himself thinking that somedays. Maybe Peter could've loved Johnny, if things had been different.

If, if, if. What was the point of so many ifs? Things  _weren't_  different.

He  _was_ Spider-Man now, and always would be, and Uncle Ben had truly perished.

He  _had_  met Gwen, fallen in love with her, and watched her die because of him, and now Peter owed her, Peter still loved her, and always would, because that was what was right.

She'd given him her life, and now he was going to give her his, fight in her name, and love her silently, for all the days of his life.

And he couldn't let Johnny distract him from that, from what was right, with the hope of gaining love and happiness and a life in the sunlight, far from the darkest corners of the night he currently occupied, of achieving everything he'd wanted back when he was a whole person.

No, there was only duty and the responsibility he bore to the dead he'd left in his wake left now for Peter. 

His final, desperate bid for happiness had died the moment Gwen did, and that was how things were going to stay.

Truth be told, after everything he'd lost, Peter wondered at times if he  _could_  fall in love anymore, even if he'd so desired. He simply failed to see how it was possible.

He knew he could no longer be as open and trusting as love would require him to be. Lingering in the back of his mind would forever be the fear that they would be torn away from him, as Gwen had been, and that it would all be his fault.

He was responsible for enough death, and had no desire to put anyone else in harm's way, even if they did happen to be a superhero. The universe despised him, and, he was certain, it would find a way to take even Johnny from him, someday. It was inevitable.

Best to keep Johnny at arm's length, to keep him safe, and to minimize Peter's hurt when it finally happened.

Peter rose to his feet with a weary sigh, sneakers squeaking against the tiles. 

Well, he supposed he'd better get this over with, for Johnny's sake.

He'd go, and hold Johnny's hand like a good friend should, and keep reminding himself that he still loved Gwen, and could never feel anything for Johnny. 

* * *

"Pete!" Johnny bellowed up the stairs. "Hurry up, we're gonna be late!"

Reed, Sue, Alicia, and Ben were all gathered in the living room, ready to take off. They were all waiting for Peter. 

"I'm coming!" Peter shouted back. "I've never put a tux on before! These things are irritating! They're secretly torture devices, aren't they?"

"Do you need me to tie your bowtie?" Sue asked, walking over to stand next to Johnny.

"Could you, please?" Peter called back, frustrated. "This thing is more complicated than—than string theory!"

Reed snorted at that as Sue headed upstairs. "It's really not," he said to everyone, not that anyone present cared. 

"We know, Reed," Johnny said as he plopped down onto the sofa next to Ben, crossing his arms and slouching down sullenly. "And you guys say I take a long time gettin' ready," he muttered.

"You do, pipsqueak," Ben said, patting his shoulder. "Don't worry, you still hold the family record."

"Well, somebody around here has to care about fashion," he grumbled. "And it sure as hell ain't you, pal."

"Whaddya mean?" Ben asked, straightening his baby-blue bowtie. "I'm the height o' fashion, Hothead. You just wish you looked as good as me."

"I agree," Alicia said, patting Ben's arm. "Ben looks very dashing."

"And you look gorgeous too, doll," Ben said, grinning down at her, and leaning in for what Johnny was sure was a kiss, but he diverted his glance before his eyes could be assaulted by such a dreadful, horrible sight. For the third time that morning.

"Yuck," Johnny grimaced, a look of pure disgust on his face. "Old people."

* * *

There were moments when the fact that he and Peter weren't dating seemed infinitely more unfair to Johnny than others.

One of those moments, surely, was when Peter walked down those stairs in a perfectly fitted tux, looking very,  _very_  hot. He cleaned up  _nice,_ it turned out.

He looked like a very hot, sexy spy, Johnny decided. Yeah, that was it. Like James Bond or someone.

Johnny was pretty sure his brain stopped working for about two or three minutes there when he first caught sight of him.

He was sitting one moment, sulking over how long Peter was taking, and the next thing he knew, he was standing on his feet, mouth hanging open, and he couldn't seem to get it to close.

That time Peter'd taken getting ready? Totally worth every second, Johnny decided.

Peter should be legally required to dress like this every day. The part of Johnny's brain that was still ticking away wondered if he could make that happen somehow. Maybe he'd run for mayor or something, pass the Parker Tux law, and then resign.

Could mayors even make laws? Johnny didn't know. He had some vague idea that they had something to do with it, even though he mostly associated mayors with parades and fancy ceremonies where Reed got given the key to the city.

Maybe he'd even make it the centerpiece of his campaign. He couldn't be the only person in New York who appreciated the sight of Peter Parker in a tux.

Yep. Brilliant, foolproof plan. He was bound to win.

Sue reached out a finger and snapped his mouth shut for him. "I think you're drooling a little bit there, baby bro," she whispered to him, sounding endlessly amused by his reaction.

Johnny felt his face flush. "Oh," he mumbled, flustered, brain scrambling around for a good excuse. "I just, uh, forgot how good that tux looks. Although, of course, it'd totally look better on me." 

"Uh-huh," Sue smirked. "I'm sure that was it. He does look cute in it, I have to admit." She patted Johnny's back. "Don't worry, baby bro. You look cute too. Reed dear?" she called to her husband over Johnny's shoulder. "Do we have time for some pictures?" she asked, holding up a camera. "I want a couple of the boys for my photo album."

"Uh," Reed said, checking his watch. "Yes, I believe you have a few minutes." 

Out of the corner of his eye, Johnny saw Peter's eyes widen at the sight of Reed's watch. He started examining it with great interest as Reed explained all of the many functions he'd managed to work into it.

Reed and his toys, Johnny thought, with an internal shake of his head.

"Sue!" Johnny whined, batting Sue's hands away as she was straightening his bowtie. "You have got to stop with the pictures. You're getting  _obsessive,_ and have I mentioned you're annoying lately?"

"You'll thank me later," she said. "Now get over there and tell Peter to give me his best smile."

Johnny sighed, annoyed, but did as he was told anyways.

* * *

Peter's eyes widened with delight when he saw the pogo plane, complete with awesome flame designs that Johnny was very proud of, that was going to take them to the Great Refuge. "Ooo," he said. "Awesome plane!" He turned to Reed and asked eagerly, "Can I fly it?"

There was a chorus of loud, vehement 'nos' from everyone present. Peter looked around at all of them, mortally offended.

"Johnny's told us about your driving," Sue amended. "I'm sorry, but our answer is a very definite no."

"As in not a chance," Ben added.

"And also never," Johnny said.

"I would also feel better if Peter were not allowed to fly," Alicia chipped in. "Besides, we have my Ben, so we don't need him."

Peter turned pleadingly to Reed. "Dr. Richards!" he said. "That's not fair! Please? Just for five minutes?"

"I'm afraid I must also agree, Mr. Parker," he responded apologetically. "I have no desire to put my family's lives in danger, or your own."

"Besides, kid," Ben said, "I'm the one who drives in this outfit."

"Dammit," Peter huffed, crossing his arms sullenly. "I really want to fly a plane."

"Well," Johnny said, draping his arm over Peter's shoulders, "find someone else's plane to fly, dude. Hands off ours."

* * *

"So this is Attilan," Peter said, looking around at the vast alien city, eyes filled with wonder.

"Yep," Johnny nodded, looking around again himself. There was nothing like going to familiar places with new people to enable one to see them again as if for the first time.

Attilan was a vast, sweeping city, its architecture and technology unlike anything in the human world. For someone as scientifically-minded as Peter, the feelings elicited by a first visit to Attilan was probably very much like a child entering a toy store for the first time.

"It's bigger than I thought it'd be," Peter commented. "And the architecture, the city planning—I don't think I've ever seen anything like it! It's beautiful."

"The architecture is fascinating, isn't it, Mr. Parker?" Reed chimed in from behind them. "Perhaps I'll take you later to inspect the city's blueprints. Black Bolt gave me permission to peruse them once. They were extraordinarily interesting."

"Yes!" Peter said, glancing back and nodding eagerly. "I would  _love_  that, Dr. Richards."

"Hey!" Johnny scowled over at Peter. "You're  _my_  not-date."

"And you're my actual husband," Sue told Reed. "No sciencing while we're here for a wedding. You  _promised_."

Reed and Peter both sighed, disappointed.

"Yes, dear," Reed told Sue miserably. "I  _did_  promise."

"Fine," Peter muttered unhappily at Johnny, yanking uncomfortably at his collar. "But you suck. It's not every day I get to come to Attilan. Even wearing this stupid tux is kinda worth it."

"It's not every day any non-Inhuman gets to come to Attilan, Mr. Parker," Reed responded. "I believe you may be the first non-powered human to come to Attilan—apart from Ms. Masters, of course."

"Yay me!" Peter said, winking surreptitiously at Johnny.

Johnny rolled his eyes melodramatically.

Peter smothered a laugh.

* * *

Johnny leaned back against a rail, cool metal pressing into his back, watching Reed and Peter, who were engrossed in a conversation over the city's architecture and unique bits of Kree-Inhuman technology, as they waited in the courtyard by the chapel where the wedding would occur.

Johnny knew what they were like when they got this way. He'd seen them in exactly this state in Reed's lab when some new development or discovery came their way. An asteroid could fall right on their heads, and they probably wouldn't notice a thing. 

Well, they might stop to comment on descent velocity and theorize about the metallurgical composition of the rock, but would either of them think to get out of the way? Probably not.

Johnny was fairly certain that Peter wasn't doing it on purpose, but it felt, nevertheless, as though Peter was ignoring him. 

He used to think it was just a thing Reed did, getting so engrossed in nerdy stuff, till Peter came along. Now he began to understand why his sister found it so irritating. It gave Johnny the distinct impression that if Peter were asked to choose between Johnny and science, he'd choose science.

His eyes flicked over to his sister. She had immediately made a beeline straight for Carol Danvers, Jessica Drew, and Jennifer Walters the moment she'd spotted them, and was, Johnny was sure, judging by the cooing sounds audible over the buzz of conversation and the bent heads, showing them pictures of Franklin.

Well, Franklin was pretty cute, Johnny had to admit. Reed and Sue's combined genetics had produced a truly adorable child. It was mostly thanks to the Storm genes, of course. Johnny was certain of that. Storms were genetically predisposed to produce adorable children. And gorgeous adults, he thought, straightening his bowtie and tugging at his coat.

Ben and Alicia, part of the wedding party, had been carted off almost instantly for the required wardrobe changes.

One of the Inhumans, a herald of some kind, flittered overhead, blowing a long golden trumpet, feathery white wings outstretched.

Probably meant the wedding was starting soon.

There was a small crowd gathered in the courtyard, some of them Inhumans, like Medusa, Karnak, Gorgon, and Lockjaw, invited by Crystal, others Avengers, like Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Thor, Wanda Maximoff,  Hank Pym, Janet Van Dyne, Carol Danvers, Jennifer Walters, Jessica Drew, all guests of Pietro.

Johnny tapped his fingers against the rail behind him impatiently. He wished for the fiftieth time since they arrived that Peter'd stop geeking out with Reed and come keep him company. 

Johnny'd been convinced when he first got the invitation to the wedding that he'd be fine with it. He didn't love Crystal anymore, and she didn't love him, and he was surprisingly at peace with both of those statements.

He'd even shut her picture in one of the drawers of his nightstand, and hadn't pulled it out in days. No, weeks. Maybe since...well, since the night Peter kissed him, now that he thought about it.

It hadn't happened overnight, that was for sure. It had, truthfully, in retrospect, been the result of a slow process. That night had simply been the final nail in the coffin of his relationship with Crystal.

Affections permanently switched to Peter, for better or for worse. Johnny hoped it wasn't worse. He didn't think his heart could take anymore worse.

The closer the date of the wedding had gotten, however, the more antsy he got. The more he began to feel a low thrum of anxiety, hovering beneath his skin, behind his eyelids.

It wasn't because he wanted Crystal back, because he didn't. That was all over now, and he knew it. Besides, he'd choose Peter over Crystal any day of the week. 

It was more of a general unease—some question, some doubt, some fear—that he couldn't yet find the words to articulate. 

He felt someone settle next to him. Lost in his thoughts as he had been, he hadn't registered their approach. He glanced over, and saw that it was Medusa, who, until recently, had taken over Sue's spot on the FF. She was also, of course, Crystal's elder sister.

"Hello, Johnny," Medusa said with a serenely regal smile. "How are you?"

"Hey, your highnessness. Um, I'm...okay, I think. Mostly okay. I think," Johnny said hesitantly. No, why was he lying? He trusted Medusa enough to be honest with her. "I don't know, to be honest. This is—it's harder than I thought it'd be. I don't—I don't even love your sister anymore. I don't get why this is so hard."

"Because you did love her once, of course," Medusa said simply. "It is always difficult to acknowledge that a love, particularly a great one, has ended."

A great love? Is that what his relationship with Crystal had been? While he'd been in it, it'd felt like something out of a fairy tale. It was one of those perfect first loves, a sweeping, epic romance for the ages, two star-crossed lovers, cruelly separated by time and fate. 

But perhaps he'd been so wrapped up in the fairy tale story, he hadn't stopped to consider, well, whether it was actually true.

"Medusa," Johnny said, "would you...could you be honest with me about something?" 

"Of course," she said.

"There's just a question I need to know the answer to," Johnny said. "Did Crys ever really love me? Not—not the fairy tale prince she made up in her head, but me, the  _real_  me. Warts and all. Not that I have warts, because I do  _not_."

Medusa's mouth worked as she struggled to find an answer to his question. "Johnny, I—" she began.

Johnny didn't need her to finish. He could see the answer written plainly on her face.

Crystal hadn't loved him, and he'd been an idiot for ever thinking so. And maybe he'd never really loved her either, not the real her anyhow. Just the perfect version of her he'd made up in his head.

All of his pretty dreams of romance and true love, it was all a fantasy, all a lie. He'd never truly had any of that, not once in his whole life.

"Yeah," Johnny said bitterly. "Message received. Look, I gotta—I gotta go. I—this was a bad idea."

He ran off, wanting to find somewhere he could be alone and think, and wanting to put as much distance between himself and Pietro and Crystal's wedding as possible.

He shoved a door open—he didn't know which one, nor where it led—and started barreling down the hallway, looking for a place to hide and be alone.

He heard the door open again behind him, and footsteps following him. 

"Johnny...wait for me. Please," Medusa called after him.

Johnny's step faltered. "I know what you're going to say, Medusa," he said through gritted teeth, fists clenched tight, "and I know you're right. I've already faced it—I think I've even accepted it. Crystal doesn't love me. She never has."

"She did love you, once," Medusa said kindly. "You have to remember that, Johnny. You also have to remember—people change. You did. Or does the fact that you no longer love Crystal mean that you never did?" 

"You know, it's a funny thing," Johnny responded despairingly. "Yesterday, I thought I'd really adjusted to the idea of her marrying Pietro—but today—I feel like there's glass breaking up inside of me. Everything I thought was true, the story of my life, all a lie, all shattered to bits. I don't get why I even care so much. I don't love her anymore, really I don't. I have someone else now that I feel like that about."

"I understand," Medusa said, hooking her arm through Johnny's. "I'll stay with you if you want."

"Lady," Johnny said, "believe me, I want!"

"This someone else you say you have," Medusa asked, as she led him back to the courtyard by the chapel. "Is it the boy you brought with you?"

"Uh, no!" Johnny lied, kicking himself for having let that slip. Word was going to get back to Sue and Reed and Ben now, that was for sure, which meant one hell of a lot more teasing about his secret girlfriend, and from there it was only a matter of time before he had to admit his feelings for Peter. He'd better start coming up with contingency plans now. "He's a friend. The person I have is a girl. A really hot one. With long hair and, uh, pretty dresses and everything. She's, uh, back in New York. She, um, couldn't come because she had, um, a...thing she, uh, needed to do."

He winced internally. Man, he really needed to improve his lying skills, because he totally sucked at it.

"Oh, of course," Medusa said. "Well, that is a shame. He's a very handsome boy, you know. Reed seems very fond of him."

"Is he?" Johnny said nervously. "Handsome, I mean. I hadn't even noticed, because I totally don't swing that way."

"Yes, I know," Medusa smiled. "Everyone knows that."

"Okay," Johnny said, glad that he'd seemingly gotten away with his fairly transparent lies, and trying not to allow his relief to become too apparent. "That's good then."

They walked back into the courtyard, and ran smack into Peter.

"Hey," Peter said, sounding concerned, and reaching out to grip Johnny's shoulders to steady him. "Are you okay? I looked over and you were gone."

"I'm fine," Johnny said, somewhat testily. "Just had a little meltdown. That you weren't here for, even though that was the whole reason I invited you."

"But you're fine now," Peter checked.

"Yup. Medusa here—you know, the  _Queen_  of the Inhumans—totally had my back. Unlike  _some_  people," Johnny added pointedly.

Peter glanced over at her and blinked, as though he hadn't even noticed she was there. "Oh, hi, um, your highness!" he said, smiling awkwardly and extending a hand. "I'm Peter. Johnny's friend."

"You're  _supposed_  to bow, genius," Johnny said.

"Oh," Peter said. "Is he being serious, your highness? I can never tell."

"Hello, Peter," Medusa said, taking his hand with an amused smile. "This is acceptable. I have spent enough time in your country to become accustomed to shaking hands, and besides, you are not accustomed to our ways. But I must agree with Jonathan in one respect. You are not doing a very good job as his date."

"Yeah," Peter winced. "Dr. Richards distracted me."

"Dude, you're here as  _my_  not-date. Reed's already got someone to bore with his science-y stuff," Johnny pointed out. "My sister. His wife. Who is legally obligated to listen to His Boringness."

"I know I am," Peter scowled. "And he's not boring."

"Whatever, dude," Johnny said. "I'm going in with Medusa now, so you can go back to Reed, since you clearly like him better."

Peter rolled his eyes. "Shut up," he said. "I came here for you, not for Dr. Richards."

"You aren't doing a very good job of showing that," Johnny said brusquely.

"I'm here now, aren't I?" Peter said defensively. "I will not leave your side the rest of the evening, promise. Now stop with the guilt trip. He's my boss, okay? I can't ignore him or be rude or whatever."

"Fine," Johnny said disdainfully. "Come on, Medusa, we've got a wedding to attend."

He walked away, Medusa's arm tucked through his, and heard Peter heave an unhappy sigh behind him.

Whatever. Peter'd been ignoring him, and that was not cool. Johnny'd forgive him eventually, of course, probably around the time the dancing started, but he'd let Peter stew for awhile before that.

Oh god. He was definitely Sue. He'd seen her pull exactly this cold-shoulder maneuver a million times when Reed ignored her for science. And here he was, doing exactly the same thing to his not-boyfriend. 

Well, he supposed it made sense. She had raised him, after all, and most of what he knew about how to behave in a relationship, he'd learned from watching her and Reed.

Perhaps not the best role models, given that they'd recently nearly divorced, but Johnny didn't exactly have a ton of options.

* * *

Peter sighed sadly, shoved his hands in his pockets, and trailed after Johnny and Medusa, silently marveling at how completely at ease Johnny seemed, escorting a queen to her sister's wedding. Well, he supposed Johnny had actually dated a princess, so a queen was probably not very intimidating. 

His life was so different from Peter's. Sometimes Peter wondered why they were even friends, when they had so very little in common.

He'd come here to take care of Johnny, and he'd already failed miserably. Made sense, really. Peter screwed everything up. He wondered why Johnny bothered to put up with him at all, why he'd put his faith in him.

He must've known how much of a complete screw-up Peter was, especially when it came to everything that had to do with emotions.

It had been wrong of him to talk so much to Professor Richards, he'd known it as he was doing it, but, well, he'd been rather nervous, not quite sure how to behave in these surroundings, in this situation.

This was all uncharted territory for him, emotionally as well as geographically. 

* * *

The ceremony itself was so lovely it made Johnny want to cry. Not that he was going to, because he was manly, and absolutely did not cry at weddings.

Behind him, he could hear Ben sniffling loudly, and blowing his nose into a handkerchief he'd had Alicia bring with her. He called it his wedding handkerchief, which he always brought with him whenever anyone got married, because that big galoot wasn't ashamed to cry at weddings.

He might be hard as a rock on the outside, but anyone who spent five minutes with him knew he was a big old softie underneath.

Johnny watched as Crystal and Pietro exchanged vows, gazing at each other adoringly, as though they were the only people in the whole of creation. Crystal looked radiant in her gorgeous, floor-length, lace wedding dress.

Johnny'd never seen her so happy before. The way she looked at Pietro—adoring, sweet, loving—made it evident that she loved him more than anything.

In a flash of insight, Johnny realized as he watched her—she'd never looked at him like that, not ever, not once.

She might perhaps have loved him, as Medusa had claimed, but she had never loved him the way she loved Pietro.

This was everything Johnny'd ever wanted for Crystal, even if he had, at first, pictured himself as the one standing beside her. 

He watched Crystal recite her vows, Pietro his, and allowed himself to once more be overwhelmed by the romance and beauty of the proceedings. 

Okay, he admitted it. He was a romantic sap. Not that he'd ever admit that to anyone.

"All the best, Crys," Johnny said as Crystal and Pietro walked back down the aisle together, this time as husband and wife, reaching out to squeeze her hand as she walked past. She smiled down at him beatifically. "No one deserves it more than you."

"Amen ta that, kid," Ben agreed.

"Hey, Medusa—this can get to a guy, you know?" Johnny told her, tears in his eyes. "I mean...look at me...I'm smiling!"

Johnny felt soft, slender fingers twist through his. He didn't even need to look down to know whose they were. He'd recognize Peter's hands anywhere.

"Hey," he smiled, squeezing Peter's hand, the bitterness he'd felt before the ceremony all vanished without a trace. "Wasn't that gorgeous, Pete?"

"Yeah," Peter said hoarsely, eyes bright, and even he sounded a bit choked up. "It was. It really, really, was."

* * *

"Peter," Sue said, sometime during the appetizers, "you hang out with Johnny quite a lot, don't you?"

Peter looked up at her from the plate of garlic shrimp he was busily scarfing down, gulped down the large mouthful of food he'd stuffed into his mouth, and said, "Uh, yeah, I guess. Why?"

"Where are you going with this, Sue?" Johnny asked, eyeing her warily.

She gave him her most charming smile, but Johnny wasn't taken in by it, not for one second. He knew her too well for that. Johnny couldn't help but think there was something rather predatory about that smile. "Then you must know his secret girlfriend," she said, turning to Peter.

"Secret...what?" Peter asked, nonplussed. "You have a secret girlfriend?!" he asked Johnny. "Why didn't I know about this?"

"Ya didn't even tell yer best friend about her?" Ben said disapprovingly. "There's gotta be somethin' wrong with this dame."

"There  _is_  something wrong with her, Benjy," Johnny said fiercely. "She doesn't  _exist_ , except in all of your heads. It's been a serious damper on our relationship, I gotta tell ya. They think I have a secret girlfriend," he explained to a confused Peter, "when I, in fact,  _don't_."

Peter frowned. "Then why do they think you do?"

"I don't know!" Johnny hissed, finally losing his cool and throwing up his hands. "Because my family is batshit crazy?"

"We are  _not_ ," Reed said, miffed. "I have been thoroughly psychologically tested on numerous occasions, and I assure you, I am not even slightly insane."

"Really?" Johnny asked flatly. "Cause I've been around you while you're in your lab, and I gotta say, you give off crazy amounts of mad scientist vibes." 

"Do I?" Peter asked, intrigued. "I've always wanted to be a mad scientist. When I was eight I used to—"

"Mess up your hair, wrap yourself up in a white sheet, and pretend you were a mad scientist with your chemistry set," Johnny finished for him.

Peter stared at him, wide-eyed. "How did you  _know_  that?" he asked, sounding a little taken aback. "Did you—did you travel back in time and, like, spy on me? Be honest, if I look at pictures of me when I was eight, am I gonna see grown-up you staring at me through a window?"

"Dude, relax," Johnny said. "Your Aunt May told me." He tossed a piece of shrimp into his mouth casually, one corner of his mouth quirking up in a smile. "She even showed me those pictures. And that home video. Very cute, bro, I gotta say. Loved your little evil cackle."

"Oh god," Peter said, hiding his very pink face in his hands. "I have to have a serious talk with my Aunt May about things she is absolutely never allowed to show you. Again."

"Talk to her all you want," Johnny shrugged, not sounding too worried. "That woman is putty in my hands."

"Ew, gross," Peter said, wrinkling his nose. "Besides, seems to me you're putty in her hands too. Or was I just imagining you taking out the trash for her last Sunday?"

"Johnny?" Sue said flatly. " _Johnny_  took out your Aunt May's trash? We  _are_  talking about the same Johnny here, aren't we? The one I have to hound for weeks just to get him to clean his room?"

"How'd yer aunt get 'im to do it, an' can she show us how?" Ben asked hopefully.

"Aw, shut up, you rotten stinkers," Johnny huffed. "I do housework sometimes."

The three other members of the FF stared at him as though he'd grown another head. 

"Has the squirt always been this oblivious?" Ben asked Sue.

"Yes," Sue said. "It was worse when he was a kid, actually."

"Oh?" Peter said, intrigued, resting his chin on his hand. "Do tell."

"Tell him nothing!" Johnny ordered. "Or I will be forced to disown you, sister."

Sue squinted at him. "I don't think that's how it works, Johnny."

"It's how it works now, sis," Johnny said firmly. "Not one word about me when I was a kid."

"Yer still a kid, kid," Ben scoffed. 

"Am not," Johnny insisted crossly.

"You still can't drink legally," Sue pointed out. "Which reminds me. I'd better not catch either of you two drinking. Peter, I'd hate to have to call your aunt."

"Oh, that's okay," Peter said, not sounding particularly upset. "I've sworn off all alcohol. I'm embarrassing when I'm drunk."

"Yeah," Johnny said, remembering how flirtatious Peter got with him when he was drunk. "You'd maybe better not drink."

"Johnny's the one who got me drunk last time," Peter offered. "I'd never gotten drunk before, either."

"Jonathan Storm!" Sue said angrily.

"You snitch!" Johnny huffed at Peter. "I don't tell your aunt on  _you_ , do I?"

"Johnny, last weekend you told her I was late to dinner because I was too busy playing with my model trains," Peter said flatly.

"It was true, wasn't it?" Johnny said defensively.

"Well, yes," Peter conceded, "which is kind of my point."

"Okay," Sue said, not sounding very pleased with Johnny. "Enough. Johnny, what are you  _thinking_ , going around getting your underaged friends drunk? And where did you even  _get_  the alcohol? Ben, I'd better not find out you had anything to do with this." She pressed a hand to her forehead. "Oh my god, my little brother is the bad influence other mothers warn each other about."

"The Matchstick's trouble enough when he ain't drunk," Ben said. "I wouldn't do anything to help him get alcohol if he paid me."

"I have my ways," Johnny said, "without Benjy's help. I was thinking Pete needed to let off steam, in case you're interested. He was bummed. It really did make him feel better, didn't it, Pete?"

Peter disagreed. "No, it really didn't. MJ kept sending me the videos she took, one at a time, for about a month. It was one of the most humiliating experiences of my life. Especially the karaoke videos." He shuddered. "I hate karaoke."

"That's not what you said when you were drunk!" Johnny said gleefully.

"That was the alcohol talking," Peter said stiffly. "I said a lot of crazy things when I was drunk. None of which currently bear repeating. Please stop reminding me."

"Boys," Sue said, in a tone of voice that immediately made them both give her their rapt attention. "No more alcohol until you're twenty-one, okay? You're too young to be drinking."

"Fine," Johnny huffed, annoyed, not intending to listen to her at all. Better to ask forgiveness than permission.

"Well, I didn't want to drink anyways," Peter said. "So I'm okay with that."

"Now, while I've got your attention, Peter, are you sure you don't know his secret girlfriend?" Sue prodded. "Maybe the redhead you two are always with? I was thinking it might be her."

Peter snorted. "No," he said, amused. "No. MJ would not be interested in Johnny. Not at all."

Johnny folded his arms. "How would  _you_  know?" he said crossly. "She might. There  _are_  people out there who find me attractive, you know. I have fan clubs, and things. I win contests for hottest superhero. People out there think I'm hot."

"Really?" Peter said teasingly. "I don't think I've ever met any. Where do they all live? Are you sure it's not just, like, Sue writing all of your fan mail because she takes pity on you?" He winked at Sue where Johnny couldn't see.

"Johnny," Sue said, very seriously, "I have a confession to make. I do, in fact, write all of your fan mail."

Johnny made a face. "God, but I hope not. I've gotten a couple with very detailed descriptions of what they'd like to do to me. And I do mean sexually. If those were from you, I might just have to gouge my eyes out. And vomit for a year." He shuddered. "Blech. Gross." He pushed his plate away and leaned heavily against the table. "I just lost my appetite."

Peter grabbed Johnny's plate. "I will sacrifice myself and eat all of your food," he declared, digging in enthusiastically, despite having already finished his own plate of shrimp.

"You do that, Pete," Johnny chuckled, shaking his head amusedly as Peter ate. "Just remember there are seven courses and cake on the way."

"Not a problem, pal," Peter said, mouth stuffed full of shrimp. "Not a problem at all."

Sue arched an eyebrow at Johnny. "I might need to tell Jian to do a better job of filtering through your fan mail. You aren't supposed to get those. I left strict orders."

"Yeah," Johnny shrugged, eyes still fixed on Peter. "I told her to send them all anyways. Especially the funny ones. It's my fan mail, after all, and I'm over eighteen now. They're my adoring public. Hey," he added, turning to Peter, "speaking of my adoring public, I seem to recall a certain guy who owns pjs with my face on them."

"My Aunt May bought me those, for the last time!" Peter snapped. "I don't even wear them anymore. Why do you always have to bring them up?"

"Because it's funny, and it means I win at everything?" Johnny grinned.

"Well," Ben said, "if all ya owned was a pair o' pjs, Torchy here's mancrush on Spidey still beats ya."

Johnny's eyes widened in horror. He waved his hands desperately over Peter's head, trying to signal to Ben to stop. None of the rest of the FF knew Peter was Spidey, so it wasn't entirely their fault, but Johnny absolutely did not want Peter to find out about his Spider-Man collection, which was absolutely not hidden in the back of his closet, under a mountain of other stuff.  

"His what?" Peter asked, but Johnny could hear the barely restrained excitement bubbling beneath the surface. "Johnny has Spidey stuff? I've never seen it." 

"Oh yeah," Sue said casually, sipping at her champagne. "Bedsheets and posters and pjs and dolls. He collects the stuff."

Peter turned to look at Johnny for confirmation, eyes wide as saucers.

"Well, I didn't—it wasn't—" Johnny began, feeling his face heat up. He buried his head in his hands. "Urgh! Fine, but I stopped when I realized that he is the worst!"

Peter laughed so hard he tumbled out of his chair and rolled under the table.

"Why does he think it's so funny?" Ben asked, confused.

"Because he knows Spidey," Johnny snapped, kicking at Peter's leg where the others couldn't see, "or have you forgotten?"

"Relax," Ben said. "He can keep a secret, can't ya, kid?"

"Oh yeah," Peter said breathlessly, voice muffled by the table. "On a totally unrelated note, does my cell phone work here? I need to go text everyone I know about something. Maybe talk JJJ into writing a front page article about it."

"Oh god," Johnny groaned. "Please don't tell Mary Jane. I'm already never gonna live this down. Teenage me was an idiot."

"No change there, then, and she's the first person I'm going to tell, and no, no, no you won't," Peter said, poking his head out from under the table.

"We have pictures too," Sue said. "Come round sometime for dinner and I'll show 'em to you. Bring your aunt."

"If you promise to find every embarrassing picture of Johnny you can, it's a deal," Peter said, sitting back in his chair. "Wild horses couldn't keep me away."

"You know," Johnny informed him, glaring daggers at him, "there are moments when I really hate you. And regret ever meeting you."

"I know how you feel, Torchy," Peter said, patting his hand sympathetically. "I feel the same way about you all the time."

* * *

The FF's table at the wedding reception was right next to the Avengers'. Johnny and Jen Walters were practically sitting right next to each other. Johnny was pretty sure Crystal had arranged that on purpose, knowing of their close friendship.

The minute dinner and the speeches were over and the dancing started, Johnny dragged Peter over to introduce him to Jen, Carol, and Jess, the only members of the Avengers not out on the dance floor.

Jen's eyes grew wider with barely restrained mirth the moment she laid eyes on Peter.

"He's here with you?" Jen said, pointing at Peter. "We were all wondering who he was. Only person we didn't recognize."

"Don't you work for  _The Daily Bugle_?" Carol asked Peter, between mouthfuls of cake. "I remember seeing you around with a camera hanging round your neck back when I worked there."

"Yeah," Peter said. "I do work for JJJ. I take pictures of Spidey for him."

"Oh," Jess said. "That's right!" She leaned forward and studied Peter intently with narrowed eyes. "So, how do you feel about what JJJ says about Spidey?"

Johnny was sure that she was testing Peter to see if he was as much of a stinker as JJJ. Well, she was about to be pleasantly surprised. It's not like Peter was exactly a fan of JJJ's coverage of Spider-Man.

"Erm," Peter said, casting an alarmed glance at Johnny. "I don't like it? I know Spidey, and I think he's a pretty cool guy. I don't think he'd ever do any of what JJJ says he does. In fact, I'm sure of it."

"So," Johnny said, smirking at Jess, "does he pass the test?"

"Yes," Jess conceded, surreptitiously stealing a forkful of cake from Carol's plate when she wasn't looking. Apparently spider-people in general liked stealing food from their friends' plates. Johnny wondered if it meant something. Was it like a weird mating ritual or something? Jess and Carol were dating, after all. Johnny hoped it was, because it would mean that Peter maybe liked him back. "For now at least. Although I question his sanity."

"Why?" Peter asked, frowning.

"You said you thought Spidey was cool," Jess shrugged. "Clearly you're delusional."

Jen and Carol nodded their heads in enthusiastic agreement.

"Dude's a total nerd," Jen said.

"There's nothing wrong with being a nerd," Carol retorted. "It's the constant jokes I can't take. He wears me out."

Jess gestured at both of them victoriously. "You see? People think this about him."

Peter's mouth dropped open indignantly, Johnny ducked his head and snickered into his hand as surreptitiously as he could.

"His jokes are awful too," Jen said, crinkling her nose. "Almost as bad as the Matchstick's here."

That put an abrupt end to his laughter. Johnny's head shot up, and it was his turn to be indignant. "Shulkie!" he said, sounding betrayed. "I thought we were buds!"

"We are," she shrugged, taking a cool sip of her champagne. "And as your bud, it's my job to tell you the awful truth. Your jokes suck, buddy."

"So much," Carol agreed.

"C'mon, Pete," Johnny scowled, getting to his feet and grabbing Peter's hand. "Let's go where people appreciate our jokes."

Jen snorted. "Good luck," she said. "You might need to found your own country. Like Doom."

"Blergh," Peter said, not getting up, despite Johnny's increasingly determined attempts to drag him. He was probably sticking to the chair with his Spidey powers, the jerk. "A Johnny Storm dictatorship. He'd probably put flame designs on everything."

"I would not put flame designs on everything!" Johnny protested, dropping Peter's hand unceremoniously as he gave up and sat back down. "But they're awesome, and you, as usual, are totally lacking in taste."

"Do you think Spidey puts spiders on everything?" Jen mused.

"Well, he has a secret identity, so he can't," Johnny pointed out.

"He's also not as obsessive as some people," Peter added.

Johnny just looked a him. "He's not? Are you  _very_  sure you've met him? Cause I've been at his place, and let me tell you, nerdy stuff everywhere. You should see his toy collection." 

"Toys are cool," Peter informed him, "and you're definitely not."

"Think you've got that backwards, buddy," Johnny said. 

"You two are cute together," Jess decided. "Where'd you meet?"

Johnny squinted at her. He wasn't sure why that was important, or what it had to do with how cool he was.

"He gave a speech at my school when I was in high school," Peter explained, apparently unconcerned by the non sequitur.

"It changed his life," Johnny nodded, deciding to go with it since Peter was. "I am his inspiration. The wind beneath his wings, if you will." He frowned. "Not that I remember it at all. Or him."

"It did not change my life," Peter mumbled, cheeks rosy pink. "And there's no wind, and I don't even have wings. Stop saying that."

"It did so," Johnny insisted. "Just one of the many members of my adoring public whose lives I've changed for the better. You're welcome, buddy." 

Jen shook her head disapprovingly, Carol pinched the bridge of her nose, and Jess simply face-palmed.

"What?" Johnny said defensively. "It's true!"

"No, it isn't, you're delusional, and I hope you all see what I have to put up with," Peter said. "And that was him being  _modest_."

"Well, why are you dating him, then?" Carol inquired. "I'm not exactly into guys, but if I was, I still wouldn't date him. No offense," she added.

"What?" Johnny said, taken aback, trying to figure out which part of that to object to. Then he decided. "You think we're?" He waggled a finger between him and Peter, and then crossed his index and middle fingers.

"No," Peter said shortly. "By which I mean oh  _hell_  no."

"We aren't," Johnny continued. "Dating, I mean. We're both straight." 

He tried to ignore the way Jen arched an eyebrow—rather incredulously at that—when he announced he was straight. He wondered how much his ex, Wyatt Wingfoot, had told her about their relationship. Wyatt wasn't exactly the most talkative person on the planet, but he and Jen were dear friends, and Jen was pretty smart and all, so her figuring out that there'd been more than a platonic something going on with him and Wyatt wasn't beyond the realm of possibility. 

"We're just friends," Peter affirmed. "No dating has ever happened here. This is a date-free zone."

Jen looked skeptical. "You flew halfway across the world to go to a wedding full of people you didn't know just for a friend? Either you're a saint or you're lying and you're into him."

"Or we're just really good friends?" Peter suggested. "Besides, I was hoping they'd let me fly the plane. Confidentially, that's the real reason I came."

"No!" Johnny said instantly, and a bit too vehemently. "No. You will never fly any plane I own or am in." He turned to Jen. "Never let him behind the wheel of any kind of moving vehicle, Jen. He can't drive. The last time I gave him driving lessons, I swear, I had a near-death experience. My whole life flashed before my eyes. It was all totally awesome, of course, cause my life rocks, but it still wasn't worth getting into a car with Pete. My hair may also have temporarily turned grey, and I don't care how many times Reed tells me that's not technically possible."

"I'll wear you down, Storm," Peter said confidently. "You just watch me."

"Not likely," Johnny scoffed. "I happen to like being alive. And would like to continue being alive for a long time. The rest of my life, ideally."

"You can fly!" Peter protested. "And absorb fire. A crash wouldn't even hurt you that much."

"Doesn't mean I can survive plane crashes, necessarily," Johnny said. "Especially when someone as awful as you is flying the plane. Do you even know how to fly planes?"

"No," Peter admitted. "How about teachin' me?"

Johnny snorted. "Nope. Not a chance. See if you can talk some other sucker into it. Ben's right over there," he said, pointing at where Ben was dancing with Alicia. "Give him your best sad eyes. Might work. He's secretly an old softie."

Peter shot him a look. "Please, pal, pretty sure I could talk  _you_  into practically anything if I put my mind to it."

"You keep thinkin' that, buddy," Johnny said. "It still ain't happenin'."

* * *

"Are they sure they aren't dating?" Jess whispered to Carol. "They sound like they're dating."

"Maybe they just aren't yet," theorized Carol. "Took us a while to get together, if you remember."

"Oh, so they're still in the circling each other until someone makes a move stage of the relationship," Jess said. "Ah, I remember it well. Thank god I finally made a move, Danvers. If I'd waited for you to do it, I'd've died an old maid." 

"You may yet," Carol said snidely. "If you keep making up stories. I asked  _you_  out, if you remember."

"No, no, no," Jess said. "You're remembering it wrong. You have to remember it  _right._ Why did you ask me out?"

"You asked me to teach you to dance," Carol said, after thinking about it for a beat. "Especially slow dancing. You said they never showed you that in Hydra training camp."

"I lied," Jess shrugged. "They showed me that. What kind of spy doesn't know how to dance, dummy? It's lucky for you that you're so pretty. I just wanted you to ask me out."

"Bullshit," Carol said brusquely, glowering at Jess. "I didn't believe any of that." 

"You don't believe me," Jess repeated, shaking her head, offended. "After all these years, Danvers, I can't believe you don't believe me. Well, then," she announced, "I think we both know there's only one solution to this, Danvers. Dance-off time. I will prove I am the superior dancer. And then I will be the clear victor in this relationship, and its leader."

"Relationships aren't competitions, Drew," Carol informed her. "And they don't have leaders. And I will beat your ass at any dance-off."

"Oh no," Jess whispered, staring at Carol sympathetically. "It finally happened. The day I've feared since our relationship began. You've finally lost it. Entirely due to my awesome bedroom skills, I'm sure."  

"I'm not the one who's lost it," Carol retorted. "If you think any of what you've just said is true."

"You keep telling yourself that, my beautiful sparkle-fisted princess," Jess said, getting to her feet and offering Carol her hand. "But in the meantime, let the dance-off commence." 

* * *

Peter and Johnny were sitting at their table, watching the writhing mass of dancers on the dance floor. They all looked like they were having so much fun, Johnny thought wistfully.

Jen was guffawing loudly while she judged the dance contest between Carol and Jess. (They'd both requested her arbitration, because she was a lawyer, and they both thought she was a good dancer. She'd agreed, but only after having been bribed with copious promises of fully funded shopping trips.)

He could see Steve and Tony off in one corner, dropping some truly ancient dance moves. Johnny wasn't sure, but he thought Steve might be doing some variation of the Charleston, while Tony looked like he was trying hard not to laugh at him.

Thor was dancing using some... _unique_  dance moves. Probably all the rage in Asgard, but, um, wow. That was all Johnny was going to say about that, since he'd spotted Thor with Mjolnir earlier, and he had no desire to be turned into electrocuted goo.

Sue'd even managed to talk Reed into dancing, somehow, even though he didn't like it very much. Watching him dance, Johnny could see why. Noodles. He looked like noodles when he danced.

Johnny wanted to get in on the fun too.

"Hey," Johnny said to Peter. "I'm bored. Dance with me?"

"I dunno," Peter said ambivalently. "I'm not very good at it."

Johnny wasn't about to let Peter chicken out of dancing with him, even if it was just once. He was pretty sure Peter'd find it entertaining if he just tried it. Besides, it was a wedding, and if you weren't drinking, there wasn't much to do, apart from talking and dancing.

"Oh no!" Johnny exclaimed melodramatically, pressing a hand to his forehead melodramatically, scrunching up his eyes, and pretending to faint against Peter. "I feel depressed and awful because Crys is married! I can only be cured of my depression through the ancient and noble art of dancing!" He cracked one eye open to see if it was working. "I mean, dancing with hot dudes in tuxes, specifically. More specifically, they have to be named Peter, or the cure won't work."

"Oh, shut up," Peter said, smiling a little at Johnny's clowning. "That is not a real thing."

"It is so a real thing," Johnny protested. "So are you going to save me, or aren't you?"

"You're shameless," Peter said, shaking his head. "But fine, if it'll shut you up, we can dance."

"Lips zipped, promise," Johnny agreed, leaping to his feet, grabbing Peter's hand, and dragging Peter with him towards the dance floor.

* * *

"Oh my god," Peter laughed, not long after, "we're  _both_  terrible! This is both embarrassing and a trainwreck, and I thought you said you could dance."

Johnny looked mortally offended. "I  _can_ , loser, you just don't appreciate my awesome dance moves."

"The only people who could appreciate your awesome dance moves are from the nineties," Peter shot back. 

"Jen," Johnny said, reaching over and tugging her away from where she was busy judging Carol and Jess' dancing. "Tell this loser I can dance."

"Well, I could," Jen said. "But then I'd be lying."

Johnny's mouth dropped open. "Traitors," he huffed, folding his arms across his chest. "You're all traitors."

Jen snorted, and said, "Scuse me, I'm judging a dance contest," and turned back to Jess and Carol. She turned back. "Danced by people who can actually dance."

Johnny made a disgruntled noise.

"It's okay, Storm," Peter said, patting his arm. "I'll dance with you anyways. Most people, they'd be embarrassed to be seen with you, but me? I'm a real pal, I'll put up with anything."

"When the slow dancing starts," Johnny threatened, "I am totally gonna dip you."

"Drop me and you're dead," Peter retorted. 

"I have superpowers," Johnny said. "And you don't. Whaddya gonna do about it, Parker?"

Peter frowned sullenly at him, and then his face brightened. "I'll tell your sister on you," he said smugly. "Tell her you've been mean to me." 

"Then I'll tell your aunt on  _you_ ," Johnny said. "Peter's so  _mean_  to me, Mrs. Parker," he sniffed, pressing a hand to his chest. "You should have a long talk with him on the right way to treat his boyfriend."

"His what?" Jen said, whirling around from where she'd been eavesdropping, eyes wide with surprise and perhaps a touch of amusement. "I thought you two  _weren't_  dating."

"Whoops," Johnny said, alarmed. "I totally didn't notice you were listening."

"Then you  _are_  dating?" Jen asked insistently.

"Who's dating?" Carol said excitedly, poking her head around Jen. "Are they?"

"Hah!" Jess crowed, sidling around Jen, and pointing at Johnny and Peter accusingly. "I knew it. I knew they were lying! I was totally getting a vibe from them."

"No!" Peter said loudly, cutting over the conversation. "We really aren't. My aunt just  _thinks_  we are."

"Does she happen to think that because you  _are_  dating?" Jen inquired.

Jess and Carol both laughed loudly at that, and Jess held up her hand for Jen to high-five.

"No!" Johnny said. "I was playing a prank on Pete. It got a little out of hand, and now his aunt is convinced we're dating, and she's so happy about it, cause she loves me, and why wouldn't she, I'm awesome, that Pete here doesn't want to tell her we aren't really dating. So we pretend we are, and she totally buys it."

"That sounds like the plot to a bad rom-com," Jess informed them. "A  _very_  bad rom-com. I would watch the shit out of that. And you know how they always end," she added, waggling her eyebrows suggestively at them. At the sight of their blank, stricken faces, she added, "Sex. I mean they end with sex."

"Well, it won't this time," Peter scowled, after gathering his wits. "You can be sure of that." 

"Y'know," Jen mused, arching an eyebrow, "Sigmund Freud did once say that a joke is a truth wrapped in a smile."

"And sometimes a cigar is just a cigar," Peter retorted. "This is just a cigar." He grabbed Johnny's hand and tugged at it. "C'mon, Torchy, let's go get some cake."

"More?" Johnny said, sounding a little shocked. "Pete, you've had five slices already."

"It's good cake," Peter shrugged, undeterred.

"You also had a seven-course meal. More than that, since you kept filching mine," Johnny felt compelled to point out.

"I get hungry a lot," Peter shrugged. "You know that. And the portions were pretty small, and you weren't gonna finish yours anyways." He rubbed at his stomach. "What I wouldn't give for some Cheetos right now. Or maybe hot dogs. Or fruit pies. Do you think they sell Cheetos in Attilan? If they don't, they should. Talk to Black Bolt about that, Johnny, make it happen."

"Oh sure, I'll just tell the super-scary, super-grim king of Attilan to make a deal with Frito-Lay," Johnny said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "Cause  _that's_  a practical plan. I think your stomach must be the size of Alaska, is what I think. You should have Reed check to see if it's bigger on the inside, or something."

"My stomach is normal sized, you jerk," Peter huffed.

Johnny eyed it skeptically. "I doubt that. I don't think all of the food I've seen you pack away would even fit in there."

"It'll fit," Peter said, rubbing at his stomach. "There's even room for more."

"Fine," Johnny said capitulating at last, as both he and Peter had always known he was going to. "We'll have more cake. How many should I get, just so you don't get annoyed with me and feel the need to explain to me the intricacies of your cake-eating philosophy in detail?" 

"You grab two chocolates, I'll grab a few white chocolates," Peter ordered. "And you jest about cake-eating philosophy, but there's a specific way you should eat it for maximum--"

"Pete," Johnny cut in. "Don't care."

"Your loss," Peter shrugged.

"But you're gonna eat them all," Johnny checked. "I don't have to eat any."

"Don't you even  _try_  to steal any of my cake," Peter warned. "Or there will be consequences. Severe, horrible, painful consequences, that you don't even want to know about, they're so bad."

"Like I would even be stupid enough to try," Johnny scoffed. "I know by now not to get between you and your food. Besides, I'm totally stuffed anyways."

"Good," Peter said, pulling him in the direction of the cake.

* * *

"They're totally dating," Jess told Jen and Carol as they watched Peter yank Johnny over to the cake, and Peter handed Johnny three slices of chocolate cake. "Also, they clearly have a leader in their relationship, and it ain't Johnny." 

"Peter isn't the leader," Carol said. "Relationships are equal partnerships, Jess. I keep telling you that. It ain't the air force, sweetie, or Hydra. There aren't any COs."

"True," Jess said. "Also, the clothes and the haircuts are better once you're not a spy or a soldier." She eyed Carol's hair. "Well, for most people, at least."

"My hair is fine," Carol insisted petulantly. "And I resent the implication that it isn't."

"Oh yeah, babe," Jess said patronizingly. "So fine."

Carol squinted at her suspiciously. "Are you lying to me right now?"

"I am  _not_  lying to you, babe," Jess said. "Your hair, so great. Like golden sunshine growin' out of the top of your head."  

"Right," Carol said, satisfied. She shoved a finger in Jess' face. "Dance-off time, Drew." She headed back to their corner of the dance floor.

"Her hair is awful," Jess confided in Jen as soon as Carol was out of earshot. "All flat and straight and blah. Don't you think?"

Jen shrugged indifferently, thinking to herself that Jess' hair was actually fairly identical to Carol's. Come to think of it, so was hers. "It's not too bad."

"You know what're cool?" Jess said. "Mohawks. Think I can talk her into getting a mohawk?"

Jen huffed out a laugh. "I think if you bat your eyelashes at her, you can get her to do practically anything, Jess."

"See?" Jess said proudly. " _You_  know there are leaders in relationships. And you are wise enough to figure out who is the leader. My poor, golden, sparkly princess hasn't figured it out yet. Don't tell her, please?"

"Of course not," Jen agreed.

"I just really want to be there when she figures it out," Jess explained. "Watch as the hope slowly leaves her eyeballs when she realizes at long last that I am the boss of her."

Jen just looked at her. "Please tell me you're kidding."

Jess shrugged. "Okay, I'm kidding."

"Wait," Jen said. "But are you really?"

Jess smirked at her and walked off towards Carol.

* * *

Johnny had to admit, his reasons for asking Peter to dance with him were not as pure and selfless as he'd pretended. 

He spent a good amount of time waiting with rather feverish excitement for the first slow dance to begin.

Oddly enough, it turned out to be Etta James' "At Last."

"This seems kinda oddly fitting," Johnny muttered to himself. 

"What?" Peter asked loudly, trying to be heard over the loud music and the chatter of conversations around them.

"Nothing!" Johnny said hastily. "So do you wanna...?"

"Yeah, fine, okay, you'll probably cry if I say no," Peter said.

"I would not cry," Johnny huffed. "Don't be a jerk. I don't want to dance with you if you're being a jerk."

"Fine, so I won't be a jerk. So who's gonna lead?" Peter said. 

"I'm the better dancer," Johnny said. "So I'll lead."

"No, you aren't," Peter scoffed. "You're terrible at dancing."

"And you're worse," Johnny said, putting a hand on Peter's waist and hauling him closer. "So I lead."

He let his hand rest in the small of Peter's back, held out his hand, and looked at Peter questioningly to see if he'd go along with it.

Peter made a show of rolling his eyes, but he reached up and tentatively laced his fingers through Johnny's.

"Whatever," Peter said, splaying a hand out on Johnny's shoulder. "People aren't gonna think it's weird that we're slow dancing with each other?"

"Pete," Johnny said, "we've been dancing with each other for about an hour, which I'll admit includes your many cake breaks. I think that ship has sailed."

"Probably true," Peter conceded.

* * *

Peter wasn't sure how it'd happened, but he suddenly found himself dancing with his cheek pressed against Johnny's, body practically melted against his, eyes shut tight, lost in the feel of Johnny's body, pressed against his own.

This was exactly what he'd told himself he wasn't going to let happen, but, at the moment, he couldn't bring himself to care. 

Shockingly enough, he wasn't freaking out about it. That was probably the most surprising part out of all of this. Honestly, it mostly felt...Peter struggled to think of the right word.

Nice? Intimate? Soothing? Well, yes, it was certainly all of those things. It made him feel rather oddly at peace, his mind quiet, his body relaxed.

He couldn't even remember the last time he'd felt this... _safe_.

Yes, that was the word he'd been looking for.

Safe. As though all of the misery and pain in the world would never be able to touch him, so long as Johnny's strong, warm arms were wrapped around him.

Huh. He'd maybe need to examine these feelings later.

No, scratch that. This was nice, and he felt no inclination to examine his feelings further. He was sure he wouldn't like the conclusions they led him to. 

So he tried instead not to think about anything at all, burying himself in the feel of Johnny's hot, hot breath, ghosting over his neck, of Johnny's hand, rubbing soothingly against his back, of Johnny's hard, muscled chest, pressed against his own, of the smoothness of Johnny's cheek where it rested against his, warm and inviting.

He breathed deeply of Johnny's scent. The way Johnny smelled always reminded Peter of golden, sun-kissed beaches, of summer, of sunlight, of fire, of everything that was good and bright and beautiful, like Johnny himself. 

Peter thought it was perhaps the most comforting smell he knew of, apart from that of Aunt May's kitchen, which always smelled of home to Peter, like laughter and fun and family, or of Uncle Ben's armchair, which smelled of cigars and sweat and safety, and made him think of all of the nights Uncle Ben'd stayed up with him when he was a kid, holding Peter tightly to keep the monsters under his bed at bay.

Uncle Ben's death had marked the end of all of that. The monsters had all rushed in, permeating every aspect of Peter's life, once Uncle Ben was no longer around to protect him, and Peter's world had grown ever more perilous.

But here, wrapped in Johnny's arms, Peter felt safe in a way he hadn't in years. Not since before Uncle Ben's blood had pooled in the living room carpet and shattered Peter's world so thoroughly Peter'd thought he would never be able to piece it back together. In some ways, he never had.

Peter let out a contented sigh, and brought up his other arm so he could wrap it around Johnny's neck and hold Johnny closer.

Yep. This was definitely nice. He'd probably hate himself later for allowing it to happen, but for now, it was nice.

* * *

"Sue," Reed said, sounding amused, nudging at her shoulder. "Look!"

Sue's eyes wandered over in the direction he was pointing, before landing on her brother, who was slow dancing with Peter.

Their body language was unmistakable.

She raised both eyebrows. "Well," she said, "I guess there's no question about who his secret girl—well,  _boy—_ friend is now. I really was starting to doubt it." She glanced up at Reed. "How long do you think it'll be till he tells us? And do you think they're dating already?"

"I still don't have enough information to answer either of those questions," Reed said. "Sorry, dear." He looked over at the couple in question. "Although if they aren't dating, I don't imagine it'll be much longer."

"Hmph," Sue said. "We'll see. They're teenagers. Everything is always so melodramatic when teenagers are involved."

"I don't know," Reed said. "Peter's always struck me as being remarkably levelheaded."

"The quiet ones can surprise you sometimes," Sue said. "Mark my words."

* * *

When the dance was over, it was as though the spell they were under ended abruptly. Peter jolted away from Johnny, smiled awkwardly, and, not sure what to say, settled on, "Well...that was nice."

"Yeah," Johnny said, cheeks a little flushed. He cleared his throat. "Nice."

A waiter walked by just then—fortuitously, Peter thought, but then when weren't roving dessert trays fortuitous?—with a tray full of assorted desserts, chocolate-covered strawberries and cream puffs and eclairs and tiny fruit pies. 

"Ooo," Peter said, eyes lighting up. "Pretty." He grabbed Johnny's hand. "Come on, let's see where he's going with that."

"Here we go again," Johnny muttered to himself, disgruntled, letting Peter pull him after the waiter. "The search for more food. That should be the title of his autobiography."

* * *

"Crys," Johnny said later, as he took his turn dancing with her, "I really do wish you all the happiness in the world."

"Thank you, Johnny," she smiled up at him, positively glowing with happiness. "I don't think I've ever been happier than I am right now." She glanced over at Peter, who was sitting at the FF's table, smiling encouragingly at Johnny as he danced. "Is there any chance that there'll be wedding bells for you in the near future?" she asked, smiling slyly as she turned back to Johnny.

"Oh no," Johnny said, horrified. "Not you too."

"What do you mean?" Crystal asked, frowning.

"Jen and everyone think Peter and I dating, but we aren't, I swear," Johnny clarified. 

Crystal looked doubtful. "I heard this from my sister," she said. "She seemed fairly certain you two were involved."

"We're not." Johnny sighed. "I'm starting to think I didn't completely think through the implications of bringing him with me to a wedding."

"You're really not dating?" Crystal asked skeptically, arching an eyebrow. "I'm having a hard time believing that. I saw the way you two were dancing earlier. I don't believe I've ever danced with my friends like that."

Johnny rolled his eyes. "Crys, it's me," he said. "Would I lie to you?"

Crystal made a face that indicated that she clearly thought he would.

Johnny sighed again. "I swear on my mother's grave, I am not dating Peter Parker."

Crystal glanced back at Peter and took in the way he was beaming at Johnny. "Does he know that?" she asked Johnny.

"Yes!" Johnny hissed. "Of course he does! The whole not dating thing was his idea!"

"Meaning that you'd date him if you could?" Crystal asked.

"I did not say that," he said, flustered. "That is not what I said."

Crystal smiled at him. "Okay," she said, humoring him. "I believe you." 

It didn't sound like she did. "Good," Johnny huffed, hoping she'd drop the subject.

She seemed to, since they danced in silence for the next few moments.

Johnny cast around for something new to talk about. Well, there was something he wanted to ask, but he wasn't sure this was the right time. But if not now, when? When would he get to see Crys again?

"Hey," Johnny asked hesitantly, after mustering up the courage. "Can I ask you something?"

"Yes," she said, looking up at him warily. "What?"

"You and me," Johnny said hesitantly. "Why didn't we work out? Was it something I did? And I'm not asking because I want to get back together, really I'm not. It's your wedding, and even I'm not that much of a jerk. Besides, I think we  _both_  know that you and I are over now. No, I want to know," he glanced over at Peter, "for the sake of future relationships."

Crystal's eyes followed his glance. "Oh," she said. "No, Johnny, you didn't do anything wrong. You were a wonderful boyfriend. The best any girl—or boy—could ask for."

"Then why didn't we work out?" Johnny persisted. "I know I shouldn't be asking this on your wedding day. But I kinda need to know, and we don't exactly talk regularly anymore."

Crystal looked pensive. "We just...weren't meant to be," she replied, searching carefully for the right words. "I think we both know that. We had fun together, we cared very much about each other, but...we weren't what the other one needed, not really. Perhaps we were simply too different. Or perhaps we were simply cut from the same cloth, and for relationships to truly work, there must be some kind of balance. Like me and my Pietro."

"Right," Johnny muttered, averting his eyes. "You're probably right."

"You'll find the person you're meant to be with someday," Crystal promised. "You'll see. Just like I found my Pietro."

"Yeah," Johnny said sadly, looking downcast. "I guess. I'm just getting tired of waiting. Watching everyone I know get married, have people in their lives who love them." His mouth twisted. "I've just been feeling kinda lonely lately, I guess."

Crystal went up on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek softly. "Have faith, Johnny," she smiled, glancing over and taking in the telltale way Peter was smiling at Johnny. "I suspect everything will work out for you." 

* * *

"It's official," Johnny said as he stared at the single, queen-sized bed in the room he and Peter were sharing. "I hate Crystal now."

The reception was over, and they'd all returned to their designated rooms. Since Peter and Johnny arrived together, they were sharing a room, but unfortunately for them, it was one clearly meant for a couple.

"Johnny," Peter said, setting his bag down on the bed, having hauled it over from the door where the servants had deposited it. "I'm sure she didn't do it on purpose. She probably just assumed you'd show up with a date."

"Well," Johnny said, rifling a hand through his hair. "How are we gonna work this?" 

"Pick a side and stick to it?" Peter suggested. "Or, I dunno, I could sleep on the ceiling. I don't actually mind that, you know."

"Probably shouldn't," Johnny said. "If someone walks in, your secret identity is toast."

"Right," Peter said. "Bed it is." 

* * *

Johnny guffawed until there were tears in his eyes when Peter walked out of the bathroom in his Human Torch pajamas.

"I can't believe you brought those!" Johnny said, delighted.

Peter shrugged, unbothered by Johnny's laughter, moving to climb into his side of the bed. "Thought you might need cheering up."

"The sight of you in those'll do the trick," Johnny said, grinning over at him. "Every damn time."

* * *

Peter was lying on his side of the bed, trying to sleep. But, well, it was rather cold, and he couldn't stop thinking about the fact that Johnny was right there, not three feet away, no matter how many times he told himself to ignore it.

Peter could practically feel the heat radiating from Johnny's body.

It was distracting.

He lay there quietly until he couldn't take it anymore.

"Hey," he said, looking over at Johnny's silhouette, framed against the dim moonlight streaming in through the window. "I'm cold. Do you think there are extra blankets?"

A shoulder he could hardly make out hitched up in a shrug. "Dunno," Johnny said roughly. "Didn't see any."

"I can't sleep when I'm cold," Peter ventured.

Johnny sighed and rolled over to look over at Peter. "So what do you want  _me_  to do about it?"

"I don't know," Peter said. "But you are pretty much a human bedwarmer." 

"Peter," Johnny said, sounding a little exasperated, propping himself up on his elbows. "It's late, and we've both had long days. Whatever you're hinting at, out with it."

"I thought we could maybe sleep...closer," Peter blurted out. "I'd be warm then."

It was a nice excuse, he thought. Clever. But not the truth.

Truth was, Peter just wanted Johnny to hold him again. He liked the way it felt, and he hoped that, perhaps, Johnny's arms could keep the nightmares at bay.

He could let himself have that much, that small comfort, just this once, just for tonight. Gwendy wouldn't mind, he was sure of it.

"You mean cuddling," Johnny said dryly. "There's a word for it, y'know."

"I guess," Peter said. "If that's what you want to call it."

Johnny was quiet for a worryingly long stretch of time. Peter wished he could see his face, but he couldn't, not in this darkness. "Okay, Pete," he said at last. "If you're okay with that."

Peter nodded, before remembering that Johnny probably couldn't see it. "Yes," he said. "Please."

"Okay then," Johnny said, dropping his head back down onto his pillow. 

Peter scooted over and hesitated for a second. "Are you sure you're okay with this?" he asked, looking down at him. "Because I could just go back to my side of the bed. I don't want things to get weird."

Johnny reached up and squeezed Peter's arm. "It's fine, dude," he said reassuringly. "It's not like this is the first time. At least you don't smell like throw up this time, and you're not drunk as a skunk."

"Shut up," Peter said, lips twitching. "That was your fault and you know it."

"Maybe it was my fault you got drunk," Johnny said, amused. "But I didn't make you sleep on me. That was all you, and so's this, for the record."

"Yeah, yeah," Peter said, feigning grumpiness. "Still shut up."

"Pete," Johnny said wryly. "Are you going to stare at me all night, or are you going to start the cuddling? It was your idea, dude."

"Shut up," Peter said again, for lack of anything better to say.

"You are a fount of wit at three o'clock in the morning. Impressive, dude," Johnny snarked.

Peter rolled his eyes. He supposed Johnny was right and he'd better get the cuddling over with. Like tearing off a band-aid. Best to do it all at once.

Having made up his mind, he curled around Johnny, tucking his head against his neck, resting one hand on his right shoulder, hooking his leg over Johnny's. 

He could feel Johnny's body tense beneath his. "Hey," Peter said, lifting his head. "If you're not cool with this, we don't have to."

"No," Johnny said, voice oddly tight. "It's—Pete, it's fine."

"Okay," Peter said, dropping his head back down, and taking a deep breath. "Good."

Peter toppled quickly into sleep, lulled into slumber by the smell of bright sunlight and a warmth that spread through his skin, permeating through to his very bones.

* * *

Johnny had no such luck. 

It had been a long time since Peter'd allowed him this level of closeness or showed him this degree of trust. Certainly not since Johnny'd realized he felt something more for Peter.

Whereas before, the night Peter got drunk, Peter's desire to sleep near—well,  _on_ , really—him had been rather pleasant, perhaps a bit adorable and definitely amusing, now it was...torturous.

Johnny wanted to hold Peter close, keep him safe like this  _every_  night. Not just one.

This was a tiny glimpse of what life with Peter could be like, every day, every night, and Johnny wanted that life, craved it with every fiber of his being.

But things couldn't be that way, and perhaps never would, and that knowledge was searingly painful, more so than Johnny could express in words.

This wasn't enough, he realized, being near Peter but not with him. Not for him. Not anymore. 

Johnny wanted what Crystal had. What Reed and Sue, Ben and Alicia did. He wanted someone who loved him like that, someone he belonged to, completely and utterly.

No, that wasn't entirely accurate. He didn't want a vague, nebulous someone. He wanted  _Peter_  to love him back.

But Peter didn't, and Johnny didn't know how to keep being just friends with Peter. Not when he felt every smile, every laugh, every touch, so keenly, when they were all like a cruel twist of the knife Peter had unwittingly plunged deep into Johnny's heart.

Johnny glanced over at Peter's slumbering face. He looked so beautiful in the soft moonlight, Johnny thought. He always had. It suited him, perhaps more than the bright glare of the sun.

He ran his fingertips lightly across Peter's cheek. Peter made a contented little noise, and snuggled closer to Johnny, and Johnny's heart all but stopped.

It was probably corny, but Johnny found himself wishing he could stare at Peter like this forever. 

He would laugh at himself if he weren't currently feeling so wounded. He'd made constant fun of Reed and Sue for their soap-opera-like love scenes at the beginning of their relationship. Young, fifteen-year-old Johnny hadn't understood how anyone could feel that way, and he'd promised himself he would never partake in anything resembling that.

But now? Now he understood precisely how they felt. He could wax poetic with the best of them, if it was about perfect Peter Parker.

He forced himself to wrench his eyes away with a colossal exertion of will, jaw clenched tight, and stared over at the moonlight pouring in through the window.

Johnny wanted more out of their relationship than this, and Peter didn't want to give it to him, or maybe he couldn't, not to anyone, not after Gwen.

Johnny didn't blame him for that, didn't feel any kind of anger. Those things happened sometimes. One person felt more deeply than the other did, and there was simply nothing anyone could do about it.

It was a messy situation, and maybe there was no way to solve it anymore, no way for Johnny to get out of this without a broken heart, not when Johnny'd allowed himself to get sucked in this deeply.

But Johnny needed to do something, because he knew for certain that he couldn't keep doing  _this_. Being so tantalizingly close to Peter but never truly with him. He felt like a man who had been wandering, starving, thirsty, through a desert, who had stumbled accidentally across a sumptuous buffet, laden with every type of food and drink his heart desired. It was there, he could see it, but it wasn't his, and he could never touch it.

He slid out from under Peter, careful not to wake him, and walked to the window. He opened the shutters and breathed in the cool, crisp mountain breeze that swept in, bringing with it the fresh scent of the Himalayas.

He settled in the open window, gazing up at the stars wheeling overhead, and began to think.

* * *

Peter woke with a shiver. He'd been comfortable when he went to sleep. He had a hazy memory of having been enveloped in warm sunshine, but now, as he awoke, he was cold and everything around him was still and dark.

The bed next to him was empty, Johnny nowhere to be found. That was worrying.

He lifted his head drowsily and looked around for Johnny, struggling to bite back a yawn. He glanced over at the giant window to the left of the bed, curtains billowing in a gentle breeze, and was able to discern a lone figure silhouetted against the snow-covered tops of the mountains that surrounded the Great Refuge. 

Johnny was sitting in the window. Peter knew him well enough to be able to tell instantly that something was bothering him.

Even if his body language hadn't been so telling, the fact that he was staring dully out at the horizon was proof enough of his distraught state.

Johnny was always moving, always  _doing_. This sort of stillness, this sort of silence, was entirely out of character.

"Hey," Peter croaked. "Why aren't you asleep? You okay?"

Johnny jumped at the unexpected noise. "Jesus, Pete," he said angrily. "You scared the daylights outta me! Warn a guy next time."

"Johnny," Peter said. "What's the matter? I thought you were tired."

Johnny shrugged. "Can't sleep," he said. "It's okay. Just go back to sleep, I'll be fine."

Peter sighed and reluctantly got out of the bed, which had felt cold but was, in fact, far warmer than the air around it. He shivered as he walked towards the open window, feeling goosebumps prickle across his skin, settled down in the window across from Johnny, knee knocking against Johnny's, and wrapped his arms around his body to keep warm. 

"Johnny," he said, "you brought me here as your moral support. So here I am, supporting you. Now, how about you tell me what's up so I can solve it and we can go back to sleep?"

Johnny gave a bitter laugh. "It's not the sort of thing you can solve in five minutes, Pete." His voice grew quieter. "It's maybe not the sort of thing you can solve at all. Just go back to bed, yeah? I'll be okay, really."

"Johnny, it's late and I'm tired," Peter said. "So how about we just skip to the part where I wear you down and you just tell me what's wrong now? Does it have to do with Crystal?" he guessed, taking a random shot in the dark.

Johnny shrugged. "I dunno. Sort of, I suppose," he said dully.

"Gee, Storm, that was real helpful," Peter said dryly. "Way to go with the descriptive language, there."

"Don't be a jerk," Johnny said sharply. "I'm not talking to you at all if you're gonna be a jerk."

Peter sighed and held up both hands to signal his surrender. "I'll be nice, I promise. Just talk to me."

Johnny heaved a weary sigh and thumped his head back a few times against the windowsill. "It's just—" he began, before cutting himself off. "Man, I suck at this, Pete. I rock at many things, talking about feelings is not one of them."

Peter snorted. "That's rich, comin' from the guy who makes me talk about my feelings every two seconds."

"Those are your feelings and your problems, not mine. It's different," Johnny explained haughtily. "Besides, you always feel better afterwards and you know it."

"Well, maybe  _you'll_ feel better after you talk to me," Peter pointed out.

"Maybe," Johnny said darkly, glancing back out the window. "But somehow I doubt that you'll be much help."

"C'mon, spill, Fireboy," Peter wheedled. "You keep me up all night, I'm gonna be pissed."

"Whatever," Johnny snorted. "I didn't wake you up, and I didn't make you come over here."

"You did the day you befriended me," Peter retorted. "I blame you completely."

"A day I regret," Johnny sighed. "Maybe the worst day of my life."

Peter glowered at him, even though he knew Johnny probably couldn't see it in the dim light. Johnny hadn't entirely sounded like he was joking, and Peter felt himself panicking about that, just a little bit, but he squashed it down. This was about Johnny's insecurities, for once, not his.

Johnny'd seemed to be in a pretty good mood most of the night—what the hell had set him off? That's what Peter couldn't quite figure out.

"How about you just tell me what's botherin' you? C'mon, Storm," he tried again.

Peter waited impatiently for Johnny to say something, tapping his fingers lightly against his arm while he waited.

"It's just that, I don't know, I just," Johnny said, not quite knowing how to articulate it. "This is gonna sound stupid, Pete. Stupid and maybe really lame." 

"Well, then, it's a good thing I already think you are both stupid and lame, so it won't negatively impact my opinion of you at all," Peter teased. 

He knew he probably shouldn't be teasing Johnny right now, but it was almost second nature to respond to Johnny with jokes and insults at this point.

Johnny snorted. "Thanks. You're a real pal." He looked out the window again, head resting on the wall behind him. "It was just...when I was watching Pietro and Crystal, at the wedding. The way they looked at each other, Pete, did you notice it?"

"Yeah," Peter said, not understanding why it was such a big deal. "They looked at each other like they loved each other. They were getting married, so, y'know, it makes sense."

"She never looked at me like that, Pete," Johnny said wistfully. "I've been trying to remember, and I can't think of a single time when she looked at me like that. Just got me thinking. I don't think anyone ever has. I mean, I recognize that look. It's how Reed and Sue look at each other, and how Ben and Alicia do too. But no one's ever looked at  _me_  like that. Bet Gwen looked at you that way?"

"Yeah," Peter said. "I guess she did. Where are you going with this, Torchy?"

"Why  _hasn't_  anyone ever looked at me like that, Pete?" Johnny asked, voice rawer and more vulnerable than Peter'd ever heard it. "Be honest. No jokes. Is there something wrong with me? Am I just not good enough to deserve that? I mean, Reed's the smartest, Ben's the strongest, Sue's the bravest, so what does that leave me, comic relief?"

Peter's hands clenched tightly around his biceps, and he could feel his heart thumping loudly against his ribs. On impulse, he leaned forward and hauled Johnny into a hug. 

"There is nothing wrong with you," Peter said fiercely into Johnny's shoulder. "And if anyone ever tells you differently, I'll pound 'em for you, Torchy. And you're plenty smart, and plenty strong, and plenty brave. You're a hero, buddy, and you deserve all the good things the world has to offer. Don't you forget that."

Johnny was oddly stiff and rigid in Peter's arms, the way he had been earlier when Peter'd curled around him. He didn't hug back.

He extricated himself from Peter's arms, eyes shining too brightly in the darkness, only a few meager inches from Peter's, and said, "Well, then, if there's nothing wrong with me, and I'm all the things you say I am, why won't  _you_  date me?"

Peter jolted away, skittering back to his side of the window, instinctively putting some distance between himself and Johnny. This sort of conversation, he wanted to be as far from Johnny as possible, or he might be tempted to do things he'd regret later. "That's not why I won't date you," he said curtly. "It's private."

Johnny snorted. "Right," he said bitterly. "You don't have to lie to me, Pete. You just don't think I'm good enough for you. And if my own best friend thinks that, how can I ever expect anyone else to think differently?"

That was crazy. Johnny wasn't good enough for Peter? Could Johnny truly believe that? Peter couldn't fathom how Johnny could possibly think that.

"Johnny," Peter said placatingly. "It's really not about you."

" _I'm_  the one you don't want to date!" Johnny roared, as though such a paltry, unsatisfactory answer were simply too much to take at this moment. "Explain to me exactly how it's   _not_  about me! If you can." 

"Johnny, shush," Peter said, casting a wary glance at the door. "People are trying to sleep, you know."

"Oh," he said sarcastically. "I'm sorry my emotional crisis is keeping people awake. I'll be sure to schedule it for a more convenient time of day next time. Look," he continued gruffly, "I've kept you up long enough and you're really not helping, so why don't you just go back to bed and dream about Gwen or whatever the hell you dream about."

Peter tensed up at that, but struggled to bite down his anger. Johnny knew about his nightmares, knew they were always about Gwen...but Johnny was just upset, he told himself, and saying cruel things he didn't mean.

Peter scrubbed a hand over his face. Johnny deserved to know, he supposed, especially since he could see that not knowing was hurting Johnny. "Okay," he said testily. "Fine, you win, you wanna know why I won't date you? Well, here goes. When Gwen was murdered, I kinda made a promise to myself, okay? That I would never love anyone else. So it's not that I don't want to date you specifically. It's that I don't want to date anyone. See? It's really not about you."

"That," Johnny said flatly, "has to be the stupidest reason I've ever heard for not dating someone."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Peter snapped.  _Not_  the reaction he'd been expecting out of Johnny.

"It's just a convenient excuse," Johnny said, words sharp and biting, leaning forward in his earnestness. "For you to hide yourself away in your dingy little apartment with your sad little life and never have to risk getting hurt again. Don't lie to yourself, Pete. This doesn't have anything to do with Gwen. It's about you feeling guilty over what happened to her, and maybe you're trying to punish yourself, I don't know. And it's about you being too scared to take a chance on letting someone else in. Gwen died, and it hurt more than anything, and you're scared of getting hurt like that again, aren't you? That's why you won't date me. You're just scared. So much for the big brave hero."

Sometimes Peter forgot how perceptive Johnny could be. But damn him to hell for thinking he had the right to say these things to Peter.

" _Don't_  call me a hero," Peter shouted back, furious. "I'm not, and I never said I was. I don't think I am. It isn't why I do any of this, and if you think it is, you don't know me at all. You don't know  _anything_ , Johnny. You don't know what it's like to hold someone you love in your arms and have to watch them die, and know it was because of you. That if they'd never met you, they'd be alive right now, somewhere. You don't know what that's  _like_ , and don't pretend you do."

"I watched my  _dad_  die," Johnny countered, just as angrily, just as loudly. "He died to save my life, mine and Sue's. I didn't shut myself away, Pete. I didn't close myself off. I lost Dorrie, and Crystal, and Wyatt, but I'd date you in a second, Peter, because I still want to fall in love with somebody. Because I'm not scared to open up. You are, why can't you just admit it? You're scared."

"I am not  _scared_ ," Peter snapped. "I am making a  _sacrifice_  for her sake. Just like she sacrificed her life for me. And Dorrie and Crystal and Wyatt are still alive, and they're happy, and you know they are. Gwen is dead. Don't compare."

"So she gave you her life, and now you're gonna give her yours?" Johnny taunted. "That's stupid, Pete, and masochistic. Because you know what? You're right, Gwen  _is_  dead, and yeah, that sucks, but you, Pete? You're still alive. Are you really going to keep shoving away every chance for happiness you have with both hands, just because of a dead woman?"

"I love her!" Peter bellowed, really losing his temper now. "And don't you  _dare_  talk about her like that! Not to me!"

"Somebody needs to, Pete!" Johnny hollered. "She was a real, living, lovely girl, Peter, but she wasn't an angel, or a god, or a saint, or something you have to keep worshiping! You need to let her go, Pete. Not for my sake, but for yours. You're never gonna be happy if you keep pining over someone you can never have."

"Well," Peter said viciously. "Then I guess you'd better stop pining over me." 

Peter knew, even as the words were leaving his mouth, that he'd crossed a line. He wished he could go back and unsay them, but, of course, he couldn't.

Even in the dim light from the moon, Peter could see the way Johnny looked stricken, as though Peter'd just slapped him across the face as hard as he could.

"Yeah," Johnny said quietly, after a few moments of shocked silence, face hard. "Guess I'd better."

He leapt to his feet, flames beginning to curl around his body. Peter blinked against the sudden burst of brightness.

"Just one thing, Pete," Johnny said harshly. "You never once said you didn't want to date me because you weren't attracted to me, or because you didn't have feelings for me."

"Well, I don't," Peter cut in. "I don't have feelings for you at all."

Johnny just looked at him, gaze almost pitying. "Now you're just lying to yourself, Pete. You're better than that and you know it. Just as a novelty, why don't you try being honest with yourself, even if it's just for five minutes? Start by askin' yourself why you kissed me."

With that parting shot, he allowed his flames to envelop the rest of his body, and took off, burning a blazing trail across the sky.

Peter glowered up after him. "Now who's being a jerk?" he muttered aloud to the empty room. "He knows I can't fly after him, the damn showoff."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be up around August 1st.


	4. Attitude Problems

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided to make the chapters shorter from here on out—it'll be easier for me to manage, and I figure you guys would probably prefer more frequent updates to the lengthier chapters that take forever to write. I'm aiming for one every two weeks.

"Jonathan Storm!" Sue bellowed, rising to her feet and slamming her hands down noisily on the kitchen table. "I have no idea what's gotten into you these last few weeks, but that's no excuse to speak to any of us this way! I have had it up to here with you and your bad attitude! Go to your room  _now_!"

"I'm nineteen now, Sue!" Johnny shouted back, shooting up, hands curled into fists. "I'm not a kid anymore! You can't just send me to my room!"

Sue bristled. "Don't talk back to me _,_ young man," she gritted out. "If you want to be treated like an adult, I suggest you start acting like one." She pointed at the stairs that led to their bedrooms. "I said  _now_."

Johnny glared at her, chest heaving, as he considered for a beat whether or not he was going to do as his sister ordered. Finally, his jaw clenched, and he spat out, "Fine! But I hate all of you!" before marching to his room.

"I'll be up to talk to you in a few minutes," Sue called after him. "And I absolutely forbid you from flying out of the window. And while you're waiting, I want you to think about how you've been treating us, and, most importantly, what on _earth_ possessed you to act like this."

Without turning around, Johnny waved a hand angrily at her as he headed upstairs.

The moment she heard his bedroom door slam shut, Sue sank back into her chair, buried her face in her hands, and focused on taking in a few calming breaths. "I apologize to both of you," she said to Ben and Reed. "I really don't know what's gotten into him lately. I have _never_ seen him sulk like this."

"Not _lately,_ dear. He's been sulking since Crystal's wedding, to be more specific," Reed said very evenly, calmly eating his salad as though nothing of note had transpired.

"What?" Sue asked, taken aback, lifting her head up to peer at him curiously.

Reed put down his fork. "He's been behaving this way since we overheard him arguing with Mr. Parker the night of Crystal's wedding," he informed her, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Didn't you notice that they didn't say a word to each other the entire way back? I thought it was rather odd, I must say, given that the entire trip there they didn't stop talking for a moment. Neither have I seen them speaking to each other at all since then, come to think of it. This morning Johnny passed Mr. Parker and myself in the hall and they failed to even acknowledge each other. In fact, Johnny rather pointedly said hello to me and not to Mr. Parker, as I recall." He frowned at Ben and Sue. "Hadn't either of you noticed? I thought we all knew that already."

"No, we didn't know, Einstein!" Ben said, exasperated. "We ain't all geniuses like you, and we don't all spend so much time around the Parker kid." He rested his chin on his fist. "Hrmmph. That explains why the kid's been more hotheaded than normal, anyhow. And fer him that's sayin' a lot."

"Yes," Sue said pensively, brow drawing down slightly. "It does explain it, although I don't think it excuses it at all."

"D'ya think it's the Parker kid's fault? Cause if it is, I wouldn't mind clobberin' him fer puttin' the squirt through the wringer," Ben said.

"Whoa," Sue cautioned. "No clobbering anyone until we know one hell of a lot more about what's going on. And not even then, really. Peter's just a nineteen-year-old boy, you know."

"Fine," Ben said. "I'll just give him a stern talkin' to. And slam my fist into my hand a few times fer dramatic effect." He grinned evilly. "That outta put the fear o' the Thing in 'im."

"No," Sue said,with a slight shake of her head. "I don't think Johnny would appreciate that."

"Actually, it might not be a bad idea, dear," Reed said. "Minus the threats. Do you think I should try talking to Mr. Parker?"

"Erm," Sue hedged. Reed had never been particularly skilled at dealing with relationships. He meant well, but he had an almost uncanny knack for saying exactly the wrong thing. "Let me talk to Johnny first. I'll get back to you on that."

Reed shrugged indifferently and went back to eating his dinner.

* * *

Johnny kicked somewhat vindictively at a pile of dirty clothes, scattering them across the floor of his bedroom.

Stupid Sue, he thought petulantly. No, stupid _Peter_ and his stupid face. This was all Peter's fault, anyways, for being such a stubborn idiot. 

Johnny sank down on the foot of his bed and buried his face in his hands, elbows resting on his knees.

He desperately wished he could talk to Sue about the whole Peter thing.

Sue would know what to do. Sue always knew what to do.

His whole life, whenever he had a problem he couldn't fix, couldn't see his way out of, he'd run to Sue, and she'd fix it for him, like magic.

He could use some of that magic right about now, he thought wistfully.

* * *

Johnny was lying on his bed, staring vacantly up at the ceiling, by the time Sue knocked on his door to talk.

It felt like hours had passed.

She'd probably thought it might be a good idea to let him cool off. He did feel much calmer now, he had to admit, and more than a little ashamed of the way he'd talked to his family.

Sue positioned herself at the foot of his bed, standing there with her arms crossed, eyebrows raised.

"Well?" she said expectantly. "Explain yourself. I hope you realize that your behavior tonight was completely unacceptable, and can't happen again."

Johnny looked off to the side, mouth twisting. "Yeah," he said, trying to sound as contrite as he felt. "I know, sis. I'm sorry, really. I shouldn't've taken my problems out on you guys."

"I'm very glad to hear that, Johnny," she said, sounding a bit taken aback. "Well, that was a lot easier than I thought it'd be."

Johnny shrugged, almost imperceptibly.

Sue took in the defeated expression on his face, sighed wearily, and looked up at the ceiling, shaking her head. "Baby brother," she said. "Do you want to talk about what's bothering you? If you do, I'm right here, right where I always am."

Johnny didn't say anything for a long while, just watched the way his curtains twisted in the breeze from the open window.

Finally, he decided. To hell with it. He needed to talk to _someone_. He pushed himself up and said, "Fine, yes, you get your wish, we can talk."

Sue's eyebrow flicked up. "Really?" she said skeptically. "This isn't a prank?"

"No!" Johnny said, rifling his hand through his hair. "No prank."

"Wow," Sue said after a beat. "Hang on, I need to check with Reed. I think the world may be ending."

Johnny let himself fall backwards onto his bed with a loud groan. "Don't make fun, sis, this is serious."

One corner of Sue's mouth pulled up. "I know, baby bro," she said, sounding a little amused. "But you have to admit, this is a rare occasion."

"Yeah, yeah," he said. "Stop teasing, or I won't tell you anything."

Sue walked around to the other side of his bed, and settled down next to him, leaning back against the headboard, arms folded over her chest. "Okay, so talk. What's bothering you?"

Johnny chewed on his bottom lip and frowned up at the ceiling. "Uh, I guess I should start by saying that Peter and I had a really bad argument, but that's just part of it."

"So what's the rest?" Sue prodded.

Johnny got up and swung his legs over the side of the bed so that his face was hidden from Sue. He clutched tightly at the edge of his mattress to hide the fact that his fingers were trembling. "The same problem we always have. The fact that I want to date Peter, and he doesn't want to date me," he said quietly.

He waited to hear what Sue would have to say. This was the moment he'd been dreading for years. 

As annoying as he found his sister sometimes, he loved her more than anything. She was the person who knew him best—she was mother and sister all combined.

He felt her arms wrap around his chest, and her cheek press against his shoulder. "I'm glad you finally told me that," she said kindly.

Johnny stiffened in her arms, and squirmed away, just enough to be able to get a good look at her face. "You _knew_?" he said.

"Please," she said patronizingly, chin resting on his shoulder, smiling at him a little. "I've known for years. Never say that I don't know you, baby bro."

"Why the heck didn't you say anything?" Johnny asked, exasperated, throwing up his hands.

"I was waiting until you were ready to tell me. Why did you wait so long?"

Johnny deflated. His eyes fixed on the carpet as he shrugged. "I dunno," he admitted. "I guess I was always a little afraid you'd be disappointed in me, or that you'd disapprove, or something, and I...didn't know what I'd do if I lost you."

Sue's face softened. "Hey," she said, squeezing his bicep, "come here."

Johnny turned and buried his face in Sue's shoulder, wrapping his arms around her tightly. "I could never be disappointed with you over this, sweetheart," she said gently, running her fingers through his hair. "There's nothing to be disappointed about. And you aren't going to lose me. Not ever. That I promise." She pressed a kiss to his temple, and Johnny's arms held her more tightly.

"Okay," he said, pulling back and scooting away from her. "Enough chick flick stuff."

Sue rolled her eyes. "You're going to go down to your garage as soon as this conversation is over, aren't you?"

"Cars are manly," Johnny affirmed. "I am also manly."

Sue snorted. "Whatever, bro." She shut her eyes. "Okay, let's see, so you argued with Peter because you want to date him adn he doesn't want to date you." Her eyes snapped open. She frowned. "Hey," she said, miffed. "Why doesn't he want to date you?"

"He made a stupid promise to his stupid dead girlfriend," Johnny said bitterly.

"First of all, that was unkind," Sue said reproachfully. "Second of all, Peter had a girlfriend? Third of all, his girlfriend is _dead_? That's horrible!"

Johnny nodded. "She was murdered, actually," he said. "Right in front of Pete, too. He's still a little messed up because of it. He promised her spirit or whatever afterwards that he'd never love anyone else." He shrugged. "I think he's just doing it to punish himself for not saving her. Or, I dunno, maybe it's because he's afraid of getting hurt again. Either way, it's stupid."

Sue narrowed her eyes at him. "Let me guess," she said dryly. "That's exactly what you told Peter."

"Well," Johnny said, sensing that she disapproved. "Yes?"

"Oh, Johnny," Sue groaned, face-palming. " _That_ was a bad move."

"But it _is_ stupid," Johnny protested. "I was just being honest."

"But you have to be delicate about things like this," she pointed out. "I keep telling you that you need to be more tactful and considerate of other people's feelings, but you never listen."

"What should I have done, then?" Johnny said defensively, throwing up his hands. "Let him throw his life away for the sake of a dead girl?"

"A dead girl I'm guessing he loved," Sue said. "Imagine if someone had talked about Crystal to you like that, even after you broke up. Wouldn't you have gotten angry at them, and not even stopped to consider if they were right? I'm not saying Peter didn't need to hear that, or something very much like it, but you could have said the same thing, and in a much kinder way, and accomplished much more."

"Oh," Johnny said. "Did I _really_ screw things up?"

"A little bit," Sue said. "Peter's still mourning her, Johnny. You need to be patient with him. People don't all grieve the same way, or at the same pace. You can't rush him."

"If I don't push him, he'll just never move on," Johnny countered. "I know him. He'll never let go of her, if I don't make him."

"But see," Sue said, "don't think of it as _making_ him move on. You are _helping_ him do it. Figuring it out with him. But he needs to set the pace. Your job is to be there when he needs you. You can't _force_ him to let her go. That's never going to work."

"So what should I do then?" Johnny asked.

"Be kind, be patient, be honest, and just help him when he needs it," she advised.

"That's what I've been doing," Johnny said. "He has been getting better, I guess, smiling more, but he still hasn't let go of her at all."

"He's not ready yet, clearly," Sue said. "You have to wait until he is. It might take awhile. I know you don't do patience well, but this time I think you have to."

"But what if he does get over her and move on, but he doesn't want to do it with me?" Johnny said, finally voicing the worries that had been eating away at him. "What if he really _doesn't_ like me back? He keeps insisting he doesn't."

"Oh, I think he does," Sue said, smirking a little. "I saw the way he was dancing with you at Crystal's wedding. He was kind of all over you."

"Yeah," Johnny admitted. "That did make me think—well, hope—that maybe he liked me back." He shrugged. "But that doesn't necessarily mean anything."

"I also noticed the way he looked at you when he thought you weren't looking at him," Sue said airily.

Johnny frowned. "What do you mean?"

Sue pulled out her phone and started scrolling through the pictures. She found the one she was searching for and handed it to Johnny with a smug smile. "I told you you'd thank me someday for my picture obsession."

Johnny took the phone hesitantly.

It was a picture of him dancing with Crystal. He remembered that. Peter'd smiled at him every time he caught Johnny looking over at him. For moral support, that was all.

Of course, in this picture, Johnny's back was to Peter, and Peter wasn't smiling. He was staring at the back of Johnny's head, and his expression was. Well, it was. He looked.

Johnny looked up at Sue blankly. "He looks," he began. "But, Sue, he looks—"

"Lovesick," Sue supplied casually. "The word you're looking for is lovesick."

A huge smile spread across Johnny's face. He felt as though he was hardly able to contain his happiness. Here it was, solid, tangible proof that he wasn't wasting his time pining over Peter, that Peter did like him back. Thank god. Johnny felt like he could cry from sheer joy.

He tackled his sister into a hug. "Best sister ever," he said.

Sue chuckled and stroked his hair. "Don't you wish you'd told me sooner, baby bro?"

Johnny snorted against her shoulder and said, "Yeah. I do."

"Well," she said, "next time you're upset about something, how about instead of trying to be a strong, silent, manly hero, you come talk to me about your problems? Then we can avoid the whole moody teenager bit that drives everyone crazy."

Johnny's cheeks flushed. "Okay, sis," he agreed, a trifle sheepishly. "It's a deal."

He pulled away.

Sue got up. "You can go down to your garage if you want," she told him from the doorway. "But we're watching a movie, and you're welcome to join us."

"Oh no," Johnny groaned, burying his face in his hands. "I was _such_ a jerk to Reed and Ben!"

"You were," Sue agreed. "But I'm willing to bet they'll forgive you if you apologize."

"Do they know?" Johnny asked curiously. "About me, I mean."

"Ah," Sue hedged. "Well, um, yes? I didn't tell them. They figured it out for themselves. Wyatt and you. You were a bit obvious about it. To anyone who knows you, anyhow."

Johnny thought about that for a minute. "Well, good," he said. "No more lying." He got up to follow Sue out. "But we're watching a dude movie. No girly romances."

"No," Sue teased. "I really think we _should_ watch a romance. You could take notes for your conversations with Peter. Oh, Peter," she said melodramatically, pressing her hands over her heart, "how do I love thee? Let me count the ways! Each and every one of your freckles, and your messy hair, and, most of all, your bony little teenager arms!" 

"His freckles are cute, and I happen to like his hair, and he does not have bony arms," Johnny scowled. "He has _muscles_. Also, I have never sounded like that in my life, and I never will."

"Give it time, baby bro," she said, patting his arm. "You will. And if I'm there, I will laugh myself half to death."

"Won't," he insisted. "And I wish you'd laugh yourself to death right about now."

"Will," she said. "And he does so have bony arms. I think you've been blinded. By looove." She pressed a hand to her forehead melodramatically, and pretended to faint back against her brother.

Johnny staggered as he caught her, face red. "Oh no," he said. "I regret telling you already. The teasing's gonna be bad this time, isn't it?"

He just thanked god that they didn't know about the whole Peter-is-Spidey thing yet, because they would have a field day with that one when they inevitably found out about it.

She grinned at him wickedly and nodded as she stood up straight. "Yep. But if you think I'm bad," she warned, "wait until Ben gets ahold of you. He's had weeks to come up with jokes. He's got a notebook full of them, swear to god. It's that blue one. You've probably seen him with it."

Johnny remembered it. It was thick, and, he remembered with an internal shudder, chock full of all kinds of writing. He thought he might even have caught a glimpse of a drawing or two. 

Oh hell.

"I changed my mind," Johnny said, eyes wide, backing away towards the safety of his room. "I think I'll, uh, skip the movie."

Sue grabbed his hand. "No point now, baby bro," she said. "Secret's out. The teasing will happen, sooner or later."

"There are days," Johnny said, shaking his head, "when I deeply regret knowing any of you."

Sue chuckled and pulled him down the hallway after her. "Come on, bro," she said. "You've teased us over our love affairs for years. Turnabout is fair play, and all that."


	5. Johnny Storm, or Tangled in a Spider's Web: A Romantic Comedy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are getting an extra one this week, 'cause I realized once I finished the last chapter that I really wanted to write this scene and it doesn't really fit into the next.

As Johnny and Sue were walking into the den, Johnny skittered to such an abrupt halt that Sue nearly bumped into him.

Johnny was dismayed to discover that Reed and Ben were both skimming through a blue notebook Johnny had definitely seen Ben with many times before.

Reed was chuckling a little as he read what Ben was pointing at, which was worrying enough, but Ben's outright cackling had Johnny metaphorically quaking in his boots.

If Ben'd had a moustache, he would've been twirling it right about now, Johnny was certain of that.

He shot Sue an irritated look. "You told them already," he said flatly, more of a statement than a question.

"Yes," Sue said, patting his arm. "Yes, I did." She held up her phone, the one Reed had specifically designed for them. She pointed at an icon on the main screen. It looked like a flame that was wearing glasses. "Reed put a special button in our phones just for this occasion. Kind of like an alarm system. When you click it, it sends out an alert screen that says 'Johnny loves Peter' in fiery letters. You shouldn't've let me use my phone."

"I never said that I loved him," Johnny snapped. "Also, I don't have that on mine," he added, frowning and pulling out his phone to check. "Why don't I have that on mine? Reed always sends all of us all of the updates."

"Well, because if he'd sent it to you, you'd've known we knew," Sue explained. "Duh." 

Johnny glared at her. "Having a supergenius for a brother-in-law really has its drawbacks, y'know. I demand that you divorce him immediately."

Sue snorted. "Not a chance." She gripped him by both shoulders and steered him into the room. "The supergenius is going to make fun of you now, bro. Remember to smile."

"I hate you," Johnny said, dragging his feet against the carpet as best he could.

Ben snapped his notebook shut when he caught sight of Sue making a big show of shoving a very reluctant Johnny into the room.

"Johnny has something he'd like to say to you both," Sue announced to her husband and his best friend, peeking over Johnny's shoulder.

Reed and Ben both leaned back against the couch and crossed their arms. It almost looked synchronized. Johnny couldn't help but wonder if they'd practiced it, or if they'd just been best friends for so long that they were now at this weird stage where they automatically did things at exactly the same time, in exactly the same way.

They both stared at him with identical, very, very smug looks on their faces, which made Johnny feel something akin to a murderous rage.

Sue took her customary seat next to Reed and then gestured for Johnny to go ahead.

"I'm sorry I was a jerk earlier," Johnny muttered, fixing his eyes on a point right above their heads so he wouldn't have to look at their faces anymore, and clasping his hands behind his back, mostly so he wouldn't be tempted to strangle them all slowly. 

"Just earlier?" Ben asked. "An' speak up, Hothead, I wanna enjoy this."

Johnny deigned to shoot him a murderous glare, all while trying to look as haughty as he could.

"Ben's right," Reed said with a curt nod, and Johnny could tell he was trying to seem all business-like, but Johnny'd known him long enough to be able to detect a smile playing around his mouth. "You've been a jerk for a few weeks now, son. We've all had to suffer through a fairly irritating--" He frowned, searching for the right word.

"Epic sulkfest," Sue supplied helpfully. "I believe that's the phrase you're looking for, dear."

"Yes," Reed said, pointing at Sue. "That."

"It wasn't epic," Johnny insisted, scowling a little, feeling his face heat up. "It was just a normal sulkfest."

"I dunno," Ben said. "You've been whinin' an' complainin' an' even pouting more than I've ever seen ya do, an' I've known ya since ya were fifteen. I happen ta think we're owed a better apology, squirt."

"I, for one, think there should be kneeling," Sue announced, and Johnny found himself wishing she'd turn invisible permanently.

"An' maybe beggin'," Ben added, and Johnny wished he'd clobber himself, right on the chin.

"Perhaps clasped hands or even the traditional beating of the breast," Reed continued, and Johnny immediately started plotting how he was going to conspire with Peter to send Reed to an alternate dimension. Preferably one with lots of shrimp. Reed hated shrimp.

"Tears o' repentance," Ben recommended. "That's a good un." Johnny studied Ben's chin, and fantasized about the Hulk punching it.

He suddenly realized that his family was all looking at him expectantly.

He narrowed his eyes at them. "Ha, ha, ha," he replied dryly. "Every single one of you is crazy if you think there's any chance I would ever do any of that."

"You'll have to do it with Peter, though, won't you?" Sue said. She turned to Reed and Ben. "Just so we're clear, he has now admitted he has feelings for him, and that they had an argument, and that he's the one apologizing. So, tease away."

"I never said that I had feelings," Johnny protested. "I just said I wanted to date him. Don't put words in my mouth."

"Oooo," Ben said. "Denial." He rubbed his hands together excitedly. "This," he concluded, "is gonna be _fun_."

"C'mon, guys," Johnny pleaded. "Have a heart. Things between me and Pete aren't that great right now, and I don't even know if they ever will be again, or if we'll ever actually date."

"But," Ben protested, clutching his notebook to his chest, "I got so many jokes, squirt. Ya don't even know. I ain't lettin' them go t' waste. It would jus' be a waste. _Such_ a waste."

"Fine," Johnny said, throwing up his hands. "Fine, I don't even care anymore." He collapsed next to Ben on the sofa. "Joke away."

"Doesn't work that way," Ben informed him. "They gotta arise natural-like from the conversations we're havin'."

"Whatever," Johnny said. "What're we watchin', then? For god's sake, someone pick something, 'nd do it  _fast_."

"How are you planning on apologizing to Mr. Parker?" Reed inquired.

Johnny squinted at him. "That's not the name of a movie, Reed," he informed Reed.

"I think you should buy him roses," Sue decided. "And chocolates. Maybe a romantic candlelight dinner. Always works on me when Reed does it."

"It really does, son," Reed said, putting his arm around Sue's shoulder. "A little bit of romance goes a long way. Show Peter you care about him."

"Ew. Please don't tell me anything else about your very gross love lives," Johnny said, crinkling his nose in disgust. "And also, that would be totally weird if I did it, sis, considering that I'm not even dating him. Plus, he's not a girl, and I don't think he even likes roses. Or candles. Your suggestions suck. Just like you."

"The roses are more about the symbolism, dummy," Sue said primly, "than the actual flowers."

"Yes," Johnny snapped. "They symbolize that you're dating that person. Which I'm not. Dating. Peter, I mean."

"I know what y' should do, kid!" Ben said, clapping a hand to Johnny's back.

"Oh boy," Johnny groaned, burying his face in his hands. "Here we go."

"Serenade the guy," Ben said. "Pick a love ballad an' sing it under his window. Y'know. Somethin' like, "I Will Always Love You," or somethin' like that."

Johnny stared at him, speechless with horror. "I really can't tell if you're joking right now. Which, I'm not gonna lie, I find kinda worrying. But for the record," he continued with a slight shake of his head, "if you are serious, that is _not_ happening. _So_ not happening. And I never said I loved him."

"Right," Ben said skeptically. "Ya fergit I've seen ya with him, kid."

Johnny's face turned bright red, right to the roots of his hair. "This," he said, "is exactly why I don't invite Pete over often. This is exactly why I am gonna keep Pete far, far away from here, _especially_ if we start datin'."

"Ben's idea is not _that_ bad, Johnny," Sue said. "Your voice isn't half bad, you know."

"Nobody serenades people anymore, Sue!" Johnny said, exasperated, throwing his hands in the air. "This isn't the Middle Ages! Nobody wanders around singing to pretty girls on balconies anymore! _How do you think this is at all helpful?_ "

"Use a boombox?" Sue suggested, undeterred. "It'll be like that classic scene with John Cusack from  _Say Anything_. You know, the one where he holds the boombox over his head under his girlfriend's window? Worked for him, and that was _not_ from the Middle Ages. Be John Cusack, Johnny."

"No. Did I mention that Pete lives on the top floor of a very tall apartment building? It's not even _practical_. Also, for the last time, none of this is even vaguely helpful to me," Johnny said, waving a hand. "Movie, please."

"But you can _fly_ , dummy," Sue said. "You could fly with the boombox in your non-flamed-on hands."

"Nobody even _makes_ boomboxes anymore, Sue!" Johnny said heatedly, starting to get fed up with the whole absurd conversation. "Are we seriously discussing this right now?"

"I could make you a boombox," Reed offered. "It wouldn't take more than five minutes. I could make you one that flies on its own, in fact. Or perhaps one that teleports would work better. I should definitely make it fireproof, anyways."

"Reed, no," Johnny said, and Johnny could tell it was probably too late. Reed was already planning how he was going to build it in his head. He was positive that sometime tomorrow, he'd find a boombox, with a million unnecessary features added to it, waiting for him on his bed. "Please don't. Please don't do any of those things. Sue, please stop your husband now. Turn him off for the night or whatever it is that you do."

Sue shot him a look. "I usually turn him on at night, thanks."

"Sue!" Reed said disapprovingly. "That sounded a bit too much like something Johnny would say for me to be entirely comfortable with it."

"Ew," said Ben, grimacing. "Now _that's_ the most horrifyin' statement I've ever heard in my life."

Johnny was too busy making retching sounds and clutching at his stomach to say much of anything. "I think I'm gonna hurl," he said at last. He did look a bit green. "Please don't ever talk about...that stuff, sis. I'm beggin' you. It is so wrong for so many reasons. Yuck, yuck, yuck. There is not enough yuck in the world to express how grossed out I am right now."

She rolled her eyes. "You're all five," she said. "But, bro, big romantic gestures go a long way. That's all I'm saying. You never know, he might like it."

"Gah!" Johnny shouted, frustrated, tossing his hands into the air. "Have I mentioned that he _freaks out_ every time I so much as _mention_ dating? And that if I did something totally corny and romantic like _any_ of the things you've all been suggesting, he'd probably just yell at me for like an hour? _I'm not doing any of that_. Relax, guys, I'll figure it out myself."

"But if the events of this evening have proven anything," Sue said, "it's that you suck at apologies."

"Don't worry," Johnny said. "I really _have_ got this."

"So what are you planning to do?" Sue said skeptically. 

"Easy," Johnny answered pompously. "I'll ask Mary Jane what to do. She'll know what Pete would like. It was her advice that got him to kiss me the first time, after all."

"You're sure she'll help you?" Sue asked.

"Eh," Johnny replied. "It's a toss-up between that and socking me."

"Okay," Sue said. "Well, then. If you show up with a black eye, at least we'll know why. Movie?"

"Yes," Johnny said. "Please. Let's all talk about that and only that."

"I know what I want to see," Sue said airily.

"What?" he said, hoping he wasn't walking right into something.

" _10 Things I Hate About You,_ " she replied, and Johnny could swear she was smirking a little, but not enough to make it obvious. "It's about these two teenagers who start out hating each other, but wind up realizing they've fallen deeply in love by the end of the movie."

Johnny looked deeply horrified. "Oh my god," he whispered. "That sounds exactly like me and Pete. He even had a list of eight hundred reasons why he hated me when he was in high school. When did my life become the plot to a rom-com? How did I even let this happen, and, dear god, how do I make it _stop_?"

Judging by their gales of laughter, the others found his little epiphany to be very, very funny. For the life of him, Johnny couldn't understand why.

"This is serious!" he hissed. "Stop laughing!"


	6. The Picnic

Mary Jane adored Peter Parker...for the most part. 

There were just a few...she supposed she should call them "personality quirks" that she found profoundly irritating.

He had developed the colossally annoying habit, to begin with, of climbing through her bedroom window at all hours, wounded and bloody, expecting her to apply the required bandages and make-shift casts.

She hated it when he did that.

No. The feeling was stronger than that. Loathed? Despised? Abhorred it?

Not that she was upset that he came to her for help, or even the all hours thing. That wasn't it at all.

(She'd even put some time aside to take basic first-aid classes at night, just in case.)

No, she hated seeing him hurt, hated knowing what he did to himself, day after day, night after night, for the sake of a city that despised him.

It wasn't fair. He was a _hero_ , and he deserved _better_.

But that wasn't what she hated most of all, she mused, as she watched him sip at his lemonade, wearing a cheap pair of sunglasses she was sure he _thought_ covered his black eye when they really didn't at all.

No, what she hated the most was the way he shut her out so completely sometimes. 

A joke, a winning smile, a flippant reply, an annoyed eye roll—he thought that was enough to distract her from the fact that he hadn't actually answered her.

Take two seconds ago, for example. She'd asked him how he was doing, and he'd smiled at her oh-so-charmingly, nodded, and said he was doing fine.

Lie.

She had to admit, he really wasn't _bad_  at acting as though everything was just fine. He'd had plenty of practice, after all, growing up as a teenage superhero, lying to his aunt, his friends, everyone who cared about him, day after day, for _years_.

Maybe he just did it instinctively now, lying to everyone when in reality he felt as though he had every problem in the world weighing him down. 

Maybe other people, who didn't know him quite as well as she did, who hadn't been through everything she'd been through with him, would've fallen for it.

Not her. She could tell.

His smile was just a smidge too tight, the line of his shoulders just a tad too tense, his face just a bit too haggard, a bit too pale, even for someone who spent the vast majority of his day passed out from exhaustion or hiding beneath a red-and-blue mask.

Something was eating at him.

She was pretty sure she knew what it was. It was obvious, really.

He missed Johnny. They hadn't spoken in...maybe two weeks now? 

After he'd come back from the wedding, Peter'd thrown himself into Spideying with a passion that Mary Jane had found unsettling (his professors, and, she was sure, Reed Richards, were none too fond of it either, given how much his schoolwork had begun to slip). 

Those first few days after he'd come back from the wedding, he'd thought he was being so cagey, she was sure, getting all cryptic or mumbly whenever she'd asked if Johnny was coming over.

It hadn't taken her long at all to figure out that something bad had happened between them.

Maybe he'd even convinced himself that dedicating himself to crimefighting so intensely was all selfless and noble and heroic, but it wasn't, it really wasn't. He was running away, hiding from his goddamn problems like a child, and MJ couldn't let it keep going.

So she was just studying his face intently right now, with what she hoped was a steely look in her eyes. 

He was busy drinking his fresh-squeezed lemonade and pretending not to notice that she was staring at him.

It was late Saturday morning, and they were picnicking in the park. Entirely MJ's idea, of course. She'd showed up at Peter's place bright and early to drag him with her on a picnic. He'd been grumbly and sleep-deprived at first, to say the least, but she'd talked him into it by being relentlessly cheerful at him. He hated it when she did that.

They used to go on picnics fairly regularly back when their clique included Gwen and Harry, but now that they were both gone, it'd always just seemed so...wrong to do it without them, so MJ and Peter hadn't even brought up the possibility of doing it again.

She'd decided to go to these drastic lengths because she'd really had enough of this whole Johnny situation—it was beyond time for Peter to confront Johnny and apologize, or get apologized to, MJ didn't care which.

Maybe she'd have more firm opinions on that point if Peter'd been a little more forthcoming about what happened at the wedding, but he hadn't.

When she'd finally managed to corner him and get some kind of answers out of him, he'd just scowled, crossed his arms, and gotten that stubborn jut to his jaw that MJ knew meant it was hopeless to argue, and snapped that it was none of her business, and anyways, he didn't want to talk about it. Or Johnny. At all. Ever again.

She was fairly convinced that he must be coming to his senses, because they'd caught a quick glimpse of a news featurette on the Fantastic Four last afternoon, and the look on Peter's face when he saw Johnny smiling winningly at the camera hadn't been angry at all. It had been more...wistful. Maybe a little sad. 

MJ had seen it in his face in that moment, as he stared at Johnny. It was so _blindingly_ obvious.

Peter missed Johnny and wanted things to go back to normal, or as normal as things could get between a guy who could stick to walls and another who lit himself on fire regularly.

The trick was getting Peter to acknowledge it. Because he was a stubborn, mule-headed idiot, with a fairly hot temper.

None of those attributes were going to make any part of this conversation easy.

"MJ," Peter said, sipping at his lemonade coolly, staring fixedly at the lake. "Please stop staring at me like that. It's really, really creepy. And maybe a little terrifying? I feel like you're plotting the best way to kidnap me and steal my organs."

MJ rolled her eyes and turned her face away. "There," she said, turning to stare at a mother and her daughter, where they were throwing stones into the lake. "Happy?"

"Yup," Peter said, and she could hear the smirk in his voice. "Very. The back of your head is really your best angle anyways. Means I don't have to look at your hideous face."  

MJ turned back to him, scowling, and gave him a good hard shove. "I am so much prettier than you, you jerk."

Peter let her shove him (she knew he was just letting her) and then had the colossal gall to _snicker_ at her outrage.

"Whoa, Red," Peter said, holding up a hand. "I'll admit that you're pretty and everything, but let's not get ahead of ourselves. I am extremely pretty. Practically every pretty young woman who's walked by—and some older ladies too, who looked like they had very discerning tastes, I might add—have checked me out."

MJ stared at him, not quite knowing how to react, and then decided to burst into gales of laughter. Peter joined her soon after.

"You are very crazy. No one has checked you out," she said, amused, shaking her head at him. "Literally no one. You look all...scruffy."

"What can I say? Scruffy is hot," Peter shrugged at her. 

"Not your kind of scruffy," MJ said. "Your clothes are all wrinkly and probably not very clean...and, yes, I am absolutely saying that you look a little bit like a hobo."

Peter frowned at her. "Hobo?" he mouthed incredulously. "No one says hobo anymore, MJ," he informed her.

" _I_ do," she said haughtily, crossing her arms stubbornly. "Because you look like one."

"My clothes are _not_ that bad," Peter said, looking very put out.

"Well," MJ said, scrunching up her nose at him. "Hate to break it to you."

Peter narrowed his eyes at her. "You are exaggerating. And I know why too. You want me to go shopping with you."

MJ clapped her hands together and looked at him, expression somewhere between pleading and hopeful. "Please? I can put together some _great_ outfits for you."

Peter threw up his hands. "Which I will pay for how, exactly? Or have you forgotten how broke I am?"

"Right," MJ said, resting her chin on her hand, disappointed. "That _is_ a problem."

"Exactly," Peter nodded.

"I know," she said, brightening. "I have the perfect solution."

"Oh no," Peter said. 

"You need to marry for money," MJ said. "It's the only solution, really."

"No," Peter said.

"Come on," MJ pleaded. "I bet I can find you a creepy old billionaire who'd want to marry you."

"That depends. Does he look like the guy from Monopoly?" Peter asked.

"Why?" MJ asked. "Do you have a thing for him?"

Peter snorted. "Oh, of course I do. Who wouldn't? It's the monocle, Red. No one can resist a good monocle."

MJ's face contorted into a disgusted grimace. "I just found out so much more about your weird fetishes than I ever wanted to know."

Peter smiled at her very smugly and sipped at his lemonade. "You are so very welcome," he told her.

"I suddenly feel so very violated," MJ said, shuddering.

Peter shot her a look. "You know I don't _actually_ like creepy old dudes in monocles, right?"

"Oh, I know," MJ said airily. "You obviously have a thing for young, beautiful blondes."

Peter rolled his eyes at her, but, much to MJ's amusement, he didn't disagree.

MJ stretched forward onto her elbows and watched the families and couples and groups of young, happy teenagers passing by.

There was one group especially...well, the girl bore more than a passing resemblance to Gwen. She even did her hair the same way.

It made MJ think—it was kind of weird, coming back here without Harry and Gwen.

Every time MJ turned to Peter, she expected to see Gwen sitting next to him, arm laced through his, head pillowed on his shoulder. 

It had been a long time since she'd felt Gwen's absence so keenly. Perhaps this hadn't been the best idea. If it was difficult for her, what must it feel like for Peter?

"This is weird, isn't it?" Peter said, voicing her thoughts, watching the same group walk by. "Doing this without them. Without her."

"Yeah," MJ said quietly. She looked over at him apologetically. "I'm sorry. I really didn't think it'd be so..." She let her voice trail off. She swallowed thickly. "I really miss her."

"Yeah," Peter said, clearing his throat. "I, uh, I actually dream about those picnics sometimes."

"Yeah?" MJ asked brightly. "I wish I did. They were some of the funnest times we had together."

"Yeah," Peter said, looking down at his hands, a small, fond smile spreading across his face. "They really were."

"So," she said, scooting closer to Peter, "tell me what happens in your dream."

"We're just all sitting around, laughing, having a good time," Peter shrugged. "And then, uh, well, Gwen looks at me, y'know, the way she used to, like she, uh, was in love with me, and then," Peter swallowed, "well, um, yeah, I can't really remember what happens next."

Lie. But if Peter didn't want to tell her about his dream, well, that was private. Besides, maybe it was a weird sex dream, and MJ just didn't want to know, because, god, that would be so very wrong for so very many reasons. 

Well, but, no, the tone in his voice hadn't been embarrassed. It had been more...uneasy. Whatever happened next, she was pretty sure Peter found it upsetting, because she knew he still struggled with his nightmares about Gwen.

"Huh," MJ said, playing along. "That sounds nice."

"Yeah," Peter said, twining his fingers together. "That part is _very_ nice."

"So there's a part that's not?" she couldn't help but ask. 

Okay, so she was maybe a little nosy. It was a fault she readily acknowledged.

Peter shot her a look. "No," he said curtly. "We're having a nice picnic. I don't want to talk about any of that stuff. Let's just...enjoy ourselves." 

He settled back against the grass, eyes closed, sunning himself like a cat.

MJ sighed wearily and stared down at him. She knew that these moments when he hung out with her or with his Aunt May or with Johnny—they were his small islands of sanity, his refuges from the insanity that defined the rest of his life.

She wanted to give him that. As much as she could.

But also...the situation with Johnny needed to be addressed.

"Peter," she began hesitantly, "I know you don't want to talk about it—"

"Then don't talk about it," Peter said, a dangerous edge to his voice. "We're having a nice time. Don't ruin it."

"I don't want to ruin it," she said. "But I think we need to talk about Johnny."

Peter sat up, lowered his sunglasses, and shot her a glance that warned her, in no uncertain terms, to drop the subject.

" _No_ ," she said fiercely. "You miss him, don't deny it. Whatever your reason for being angry with him is, you need to talk to him and work it out. This can't go on."

"I'm _fine_ , MJ," Peter gritted out. "I don't _want_ to talk to him."

"Come on," she said. "You can't lie to me. I know you too well. You're miserable without Johnny. You always are. I could see it in your face when you saw him in that news broadcast. _You miss him._ Just go talk to him."

"No," Peter said crossly. "You don't know what happened. Things were said by him, to me, that I—" He crossed his arms stubbornly. "I am still pissed at him."

"Oh my _god_ ," MJ said heatedly. "Why do you always have to be so goddamn stubborn? Why can't you just ever _listen_ to me? I am trying to help you. Stop being proud. Your friendship with Johnny is important to you, you know it is. Are you really going to let it fall apart over one stupid argument? Just because you're too damn _proud_ to go talk to him?"

"That's exactly what I'm going to do," Peter said mulishly. "I don't need him. I don't need anyone."

MJ made a strangled noise in the back of her throat, somewhere between outrage and frustration. "Of course you need people, you colossal idiot!" she bellowed. "You need friends, you need family, everyone does! Everyone needs people to help them sometimes! And what about all of the times I've helped you, you asshole? All of the times I've patched you up, or looked after you when you were upset? Or, I'm sorry, was I just hallucinating you asking me to help you when you were bleeding out on the floor of my bedroom?"

"No," Peter said tersely. "It's just better for everyone if I don't get too close to people."

"How is it better for _anyone_?" MJ exclaimed hotly.

She clamped down hard on the urge to reach over and strangle him. He was being _impossible_.

"People get hurt when they get too close to me," he informed her coolly. "If they don't get too close, they don't get hurt."

"So is that what happened at the wedding?" MJ said angrily. "You decided Johnny was getting too close, and you pushed him away? Are you going to try that with me next? It won't work, Parker. I'll see through you."

"That is _not_ what happened with Johnny," Peter said. "I just...decided after that it was better if he stayed away."

"Meaning that you have zero intention of ever talking to him or apologizing," MJ said flatly.

Peter settled back down in the grass and gave her a thumbs-up.

MJ grabbed a cookie and threw it at his head vindictively. "You're an idiot, you know that?" she hissed. 

Peter shrugged, unconcerned, and starting eating the cookie that had landed on his forehead. "Old news, Watson. Very old news."

"Johnny makes you feel better," she reminded him crossly. "You know he does. You smile more when you're around him."

"Eh," Peter said dismissively. "Smiling. Who needs it? It's overrated."

"You're deliberately messing with me right now, aren't you?" Mary Jane demanded. 

"Maybe a little," Peter said. "Not a lot."

"Did you or did you not once tell me that Johnny makes you feel like yourself, or the self you were before Gwen died, anyhow?" MJ insisted. "If he makes you feel like that, how can you just give him up like this?"

"Because it's better for him," Peter said. "This way he won't get hurt because of me."

" _He's made of fire_ ," she hissed. "I think he can survive a spider-guy and his bad guys."

"You said that very dismissively," Peter said, raising his head and scowling at her. "Some of my bad guys are very scary, thanks."

"Oh, Stilt-Man," she said sarcastically. "Please save me from the terrifying Stilt-Man. I am _so_ terrified of a guy who can be foiled by a well-placed piece of twine."

"The Green Goblin is scary," Peter said. 

MJ's mouth snapped shut. "Fine," she conceded. "But we're getting away from the point I was making."

"Which was?" Peter asked.

"You're an idiot. _Go talk to Johnny_."

"No. This argument doesn't seem to be getting either of us anywhere. Can we just stop now and drink our lemonade in peace instead?"

"We're out of lemonade," she informed him. "You drank it all."

Peter sighed dejectedly. "Rats. This is just how my life always is. The good things never last."

"Don't you think maybe _Johnny_ should decide whether or not he thinks hanging out with you is too dangerous?" MJ tried. "For god's sake, he fights _planet-eaters_ regularly. What do you think you're going to throw at him that he can't handle? His bad guys are worse than yours."

"I'm sensing favoritism here," Peter said, voice surly. "And I'm a little offended to discover I'm not the one being favorited. Look, if you like him so much, Red, how about you go be his best friend?"

"I just might," she snapped. "At least he's not as much of a mule-headed idiot."

Peter gave her a look. "He's definitely an idiot, though."

"You're worse," she said stubbornly. "Don't think I don't see right through you, Parker. I always do."

Peter sighed, exasperated. "Yeah?" he said, pushing his sunglasses back down. "What exactly is it that you think you see?"

"You're pushing him away deliberately," she said.

"It's more like not going out of my way to be his friend again," Peter countered.

"Because you're scared," she continued, undeterred.

"Phfft," Peter said skeptically. "You think I'm scared of _Johnny_? The guy's like an overgrown golden retriver, or something. Harmless. He's also just not very smart, poor kid."

"Because you realized that you have feelings for him."

"Yes, I do," Peter agreed. "They are called anger and irritation and maybe hatred."

"More like friendship and affection and lust and maybe love," MJ corrected.

Peter patted her hand. "You just go right ahead and keep thinking that, Red," he said patronizingly.

"I will," MJ scowled. "I will also go right ahead and think that you're lying to yourself if you think otherwise."

Peter shot her a look. "You've really gotta stop with this," he told her. "For the last time, I do not have feelings for the Flamebrain."

"So I suppose that's why you kissed him?" she said. "I know _I_ love kissing friends I'm not attracted to. It's a hobby, really."

Peter glared at her. "That," he ground out, "was a fluke. Didn't mean a thing."

"So you never think about it at all?" she asked, feeling very vindicated when Peter's cheeks took on a faint flush and he averted his eyes.

"No," he muttered. "Never."

"Oh," she said. "So you're blushing why, exactly?"

"I'm not blushing," he said haughtily. "It's just...hot here. The sun's really warm."

"And you have never, ever wondered what he would look like naked," she said.

Peter's face turned an unmistakable shade of red this time. "No," he said. "I absolutely have not ever done that."

"Uh-huh," she said. "Talk to him. Y'know, he'd probably be happy to let you find out what he looks like naked, if you just asked nicely."

"I don't want to know," Peter hissed. "We're done with this conversation now." He rolled over so his back was towards her.

"You really don't want to talk about what happened with Johnny?" she ventured.  

"You're not going to let up until I tell you, are you?" Peter asked, sounding annoyed.

"Nope," MJ replied. "Really not."

He sighed wearily. "Okay," he said, sitting up, shoving his sunglasses up into his hair. "It was like this. Johnny had these pants, right, and he asked me if his butt looked big in them, and I was stupid and said yes." He flicked his sunglasses back over his eyes and settled back down. "And that's what happened." He shrugged. "So you see, it's incredibly serious, and there's no way it can ever be fixed."

MJ was staring at him, eyes flat and hard and skeptical. "I hate you," she said, shaking her head at him. "So much. You had me going there for a second. Of course, I thought it was going to end with his pants on the bedroom floor. I am sorely disappointed."

Peter shrugged. "I live to displease."

"I mean," MJ said, "at least if it turned out that you finally slept with him and then he never called you afterwards you'd have a good reason to hate him. Not that he'd ever do that to you. The not calling part, not the sleeping with you part, because he would definitely do that."

"Fine," Peter said calmly. "That's what happened then. He sucks in bed and is into a lot of weird stuff, Red, and we would never work out. Now will you stop bothering me about him?"

"Maybe if I believed you," she replied. "But I don't." 

"Okay," Peter said, unbothered. "Suit yourself."

"You do realize that my next step is to go talk to him, right?" she asked.

"He's not going to tell you anything either," Peter said. "Because he's the one who messed up this time, not me."

"Then I'll help him apologize to you," she said stubbornly. "And it'll be so amazing you'll have to accept it."

"No," Peter said. "Do not do that."

"It'll involve mountains of Cheetos, and hot dogs, and maybe those fruit pies you love. Ooo, and model trains. And _Star Wars_ ," MJ said, waving a hand at the horizon, already plotting. "I can see it all now. You'll never be able to resist him."

Peter sighed. "I really hate you some days," he said wearily.

She patted his hand. "I hate you too," she said, smiling at him warmly. "It's why we're besties."


	7. Carrying a Torch

"Peter!" Johnny called, reaching out a hand to stop Peter as he rushed down the hallway outside of Reed's lab. "Pete, wait up!"

Peter didn't break his stride, as though he hadn't even heard Johnny calling.

But Johnny knew he had because, well, last he checked, Peter wasn't deaf.

Johnny'd been waiting impatiently (and nervously, not that he'd ever admit that to Peter) outside of Reed's lab for the better part of an hour, waiting for Peter's shift to be over so he could corner him on the way out. 

But when Peter'd walked out of the lab, his eyes had met Johnny's, and they'd instantly grown dark and hard and determined, the way Johnny imagined they looked under his mask when he went up against someone like the Green Goblin or Doc Ock.

It was...actually really hot, Johnny'd realized belatedly, but it was also, unfortunately, not a very good sign that Peter was glaring at him as though he were some sort of supervillain.

Peter'd turned sharply on his heel, clutching the dark strap of his backpack tightly where it was slung over his left shoulder, and sped down the hallway as quickly as he could, trying to put as much distance between himself and Johnny as possible.

Johnny'd sighed internally. So Peter was going to make him chase him. Oh, well, he'd thought, in his most sarcastic voice, _that_ wasn't immature at all.

Peter must still be pretty pissed at him, dammit. This apology was not going to be easy, but Johnny had never been one to give up when the going got tough. He was going to put things right with Peter, no matter what it took. 

He shoved off of the wall with his foot and darted after Peter.

"Hey!" Johnny said heatedly when he finally managed to catch up with Peter, yanking him back roughly by the shoulder. "Didn't you hear me callin', Webwit? I wanna talk to you."

Sue would probably be shaking her head at him disapprovingly right about now. He should be nice and contrite and charming to Peter, not losing his temper. But he was a hothead, and always had been, and when had he ever done the smart thing?

Things always wound up working out for the best, and Johnny was confident today would be no different.

"I'm busy. Go away," Peter said brusquely, wrenching his shoulder out of Johnny's grasp and resuming his rapid pace towards the elevator.

"Busy with what?" Johnny challenged, dogging Peter's heels. "Your internship's over for the day."

Peter was carefully avoiding looking at him, eyes fixed on the elevator at the end of the hallway, almost as though he couldn't even bear to look at Johnny, he was so steamed at him. 

"Rhino's on a rampage again," Peter said tersely. "Gotta go stop him. No time to talk."

"Well, I'll go with you," Johnny offered. "I can help you out, and maybe then we can talk afterwards? Pete, c'mon, you gotta give me the chance to apologize."

The muscles in Peter's jaw clenched. "No," he spat out.

For a second, Johnny's heart sank. Peter wasn't going to let him apologize? What...what exactly did that mean was gonna happen between them?

But then Peter continued with, "I don't want your help. And I definitely don't need it. I can handle Rhino," and Johnny wasn't quite sure what was going on anymore.

In the past it hadn't ever mattered how angry they were or how much they hated each other—when there were bad guys to deal with, he and Peter would always put their differences aside and take care of business.

So was there a reason why Peter didn't want Johnny around for this particular battle, or was he just still pissed at him and being petty?

"I know you can, Pete," Johnny said, thrown. Was Peter just _trying_ to pick arguments now? "I never said you couldn't. I never thought for a second that you couldn't. I was just trying to help."

Surely Peter knew that. Johnny had never made the mistake of underestimating Peter and his capabilities—he might rib him all the time, but Peter must've picked up on how much respect and admiration Johnny had for his chops as a superhero. Or crimefighter. Whatever the hell Peter thought of himself as.

That statement (of _fact,_ no less!) seemed to be too much for Peter, because he rounded on Johnny, and, with flashing eyes, bellowed, "I don't _want_ your help, Storm! I have had it up to _here_ with your help. Now go away and leave me alone. I have actually _important_ things to do that _don't_ include talking to Flamebrained idiots who are just a waste of my time."

Johnny stopped dead in his tracks, a stricken expression on his face. That wasn't Peter giving him a hard time as usual. Peter'd really meant that. Ouch. "But..." he said helplessly to Peter's rapidly retreating figure. "I was just trying to help."

Peter bolted into the elevator without so much as a backwards glance. Like Johnny and his (currently crushed) feelings didn't matter at all to him anymore.

Johnny's heart sank right through the floor. And the Earth's crust. Probably landed somewhere around China, judging by how terrible Johnny was currently feeling.

* * *

Johnny was somewhat at a loss as to what to do next.

Peter was really pissed at him, more pissed than Johnny'd ever seen him before, and Johnny didn't know how to make it right.

Formulating plans was hardly his strong suit, and now he had a best friend who refused to answer his phone calls and text messages and even the messages he took such pains to burn into the sky.

Peter also seemed to have developed some kind of sixth—or maybe seventh, in Peter's case—sense that told him when Johnny was around, because he seemed to suddenly have become incredibly adept at ducking away and avoiding Johnny any time he tried to talk to him in person.

The most Johnny ever caught of him nowadays were fleeting glimpses of white lab-coat tails and worn-out sneakers as they rounded corners and mysteriously vanished. Or sometimes a red-and-blue figure, swinging away off in the distance. 

Johnny didn't know how Peter left Reed's lab, because he sure as hell didn't leave through the main door anymore. Reed must have other ways in and out of there, Johnny assumed, or maybe Peter just climbed through the air vents?

Johnny didn't know. Maybe he should ask Reed about it. Then again, when Reed was in his lab, Johnny suspected a bomb could explode right next to his ear, and Reed would hardly even register it.

He supposed the fact that even oblivious Reed had noticed that he was bummed about the Peter situation was maybe a sign that things were pretty bad between them.

All of the FF had picked up on it, in fact.

Johnny knew because they'd all started doing that incredibly annoying, much-too-considerate thing they did that drove Johnny positively up the wall.

He just wanted to get his mind off of stuff by bickering with Ben sometimes, but that was practically impossible when Ben reacted to everything he said by clucking concernedly at him and wrapping him in big rocky hugs that actually weren't all that comfortable and were much closer to deeply  _traumatizing_ , now that Johnny thought about it. Maybe he should mention that to Ben the next time Ben tried to hug him. Heh. Now that was sure to tick him off. 

Reed had started giving him sympathetic—though somewhat distracted, which Johnny found oddly comforting, because at least _that_ was in character—pats on the back and asking him very benevolently if he was okay every two seconds. It was so very awkward, coming from old Big Brain. Maybe Sue'd told him he had to do it? Yeah, that was probably what'd happened.

Sue was the worst, though, Johnny had to admit. She'd started _hugging_ him a lot, and kissing his forehead, and being all overprotective, and just, ugh, it made Johnny feel like he was twelve again and had just broken his arm playing soccer with the guys.

All of that was bad enough, but the scariest and worst thing was that _she'd stopped lecturing him_. 

He always thought he'd love it if that happened, but, no, it was just _majorly_ freaking him out.

He'd experimented by leaving huge messes all over the place, including some stains he knew she'd never be able to get out, but she hadn't mentioned a _word_ to him. That was—it was _mind-boggling_. 

It was definite, Johnny decided. The other three had all been replaced by Skrulls, and the end of the world was near. It was the only logical answer for why they were all being so weird.

Well, Johnny could only hope.

Admittedly, he had been moping _a lot_ ever since his last conversation with Peter. It was kind of like what he'd done in those dark, terrible days after Crystal had taken off back to the Great Refuge, and Johnny hadn't been able to deal with the fact that he'd lost her.

His brief romance with Crystal had been all-consuming, passionate, intense, intimate. More and better than anything else he'd ever experienced.

Losing her had been one of the hardest things he'd ever done.

Losing Peter, _really_ losing him, would be harder.

The thought of never getting to be with Peter was a thousand times more painful than Ben's best Sunday punch, but even that was nowhere near as excruciatingly painful as the thought of losing Peter as a friend. 

He and Peter had been friends for so long, been through so much together, meant so much to each other...Johnny just couldn't face the thought of a life Peter wasn't in.

It was as inconceivable and wrong and impossible as the thought of a life without Sue, Reed, or Ben.

For years, Peter'd always been there to laugh with, to goof off with, to make fun of, to hang out with, to talk to about all of the things he could _never_ say to anyone else.

It was telling, Johnny thought, that even back when they'd loathed each other, they'd still been obsessed with each other.

The thought that he and Peter might not mean anything to each other anymore was  _devastating_. It felt rather like what Johnny imagined it would feel like to really be lit on fire, without his powers to protect him.

Suffice it to say, it was a nightmare.

Over the last few months, Peter had come to occupy the center of Johnny's life, but now that center was gone, and Johnny was lost, lost at sea, adrift on an endless expanse of dark waters, no safe port in sight, not even a light to guide his way.

He didn't know where he was, or where he was going. The only thing he knew, the only thing he clung onto with a feverish certainty, was that he didn't want to be there—didn't want to be _anywhere—_ without Peter.

Most days, Johnny fought an unceasing battle against the terrifying sense of emptiness and loneliness he couldn't for the life of him shake. 

He felt as though Peter had torn all of his insides away, his heart, his lungs, his guts, everything gone. He walked around everywhere with a pit in the bottom of his stomach, despair prickling away beneath his skin.

He had to do _something_ to make it stop. He wasn't really the sort to sit around on his hands when there were things that needed doing.

He wanted to do something. He just had no idea _what_.

* * *

Johnny was hiding himself away in his garage, his place of refuge from his family's irritating concern over his emotional well-being.

It was only when he was elbows deep in the engine of a car that he ever felt as though the world was still normal, still the one he recognized.

Today, however, he was sitting with his back against the wall, arms wrapped around his knees, the very picture of despair. 

He'd been working on fixing up this old 1950s Corvette he'd found in a junkyard, which had just been begging for someone like him to stumble across it and make it good as new.

Things had been good, for awhile, while he'd been working on it. He hadn't thought about Peter at all, for an hour or so. That was probably a record.

Then, for some reason he didn't know, the memory had arisen, wholly unbidden, of a day not too many weeks ago, when Peter had smiled at him, and all of the air had suddenly left the room.

Johnny'd just shown up at Peter's apartment, uninvited and without warning, carrying a stack of pizza boxes in one hand, his Playstation 3 in the other.

Peter'd opened the door and smiled when he caught sight of him, and Johnny's heart had stopped.

Peter's smile had been warm and bright and more than a little adoring, and, best yet, it had been meant for Johnny.

Johnny wished now that he could go back and relive that moment, over and over again. It had been perfect, in its own way, and maybe even a little magical.

He hadn't known how good he'd had it, back then.

Now it hurt to think about it, to think that Peter might never smile at him like that again, might never smile at him at all.

No, things between them couldn't end like this. Couldn't end because of Johnny's loud mouth and stupid temper.

Johnny couldn't let that happen. Couldn't lose Peter like this. Not when everything was his fault.

He buried his head in his arms, and tightened his grip on his knees.

He was still sitting like that, two hours later, when Ben came to call him up to dinner.

Johnny'd tried his best to pull himself together, but he knew he'd failed rather spectacularly at it. His feelings were probably written all over his face, in the tight line of his mouth, in his ashen skin, in his dull eyes, in his unusual silence, in his utter lack of appetite.

He'd gone to bed early, just because he didn't feel like being around anyone, couldn't stand the way they were all looking at him so compassionately.

He spent the night dreaming away about a smiling Peter.

* * *

"What's up with you?" Jen Walters asked around a mouthful of chocolate chip muffin. "You've been down in the dumps for awhile now, Torch."

Johnny shrugged half-heartedly, stirring his coffee apathetically.

"Is this about your argument with Peter?" she asked.

Johnny's eyes shot up to meet hers, startled. "Hey," he said. "How'd you know about that? Hulks aren't psychic, are they?"

She rolled her eyes at him. "Everyone in _New York_ knows about that, genius. You don't need to be psychic. If you want to keep stuff like that secret, maybe don't skywrite kinda pathetic messages beggin' him to call you. Every night. For a week."

Johnny felt his face heat up. "Oh," he said, averting his eyes quickly. "Right. Forgot I'd done that."

"The last one was like three days ago," she said flatly.

He shrugged. "You know me," he said lightly, "attention span of a goldfish."

"I know that's what you like people to think," she replied. "Or maybe you've convinced yourself it's true, I dunno."

"What came first, the chicken or the egg?" Johnny intoned. "Hey, I should ask Reed about that sometime. Bet he knows."

Jen snorted. "Don't do that, Torch. He'll just want to time travel back to when the first chicken was born to double-check."

"And then we'll get lost in time for three weeks, while everyone tries to kill us for some reason we don't know," Johnny added wryly. "Sounds about right."

Jen chuckled a little. "You guys do have kind of crazy lives," she said.

"We're fun, though!" Johnny said with mock-cheer. "Never a dull moment while we're around. It's like a never-ending party where everyone's trying to murder you and your family."

"And then there're the parades, and charity balls, and the paparazzi, and tons of interviews on _Ellen_ , for some weird reason," Jen added.

"Reed likes her," Johnny shrugged. "I don't really know when he has time to watch TV, though, or how he even knows about her." He snorted. "Hey, maybe he really does all of his lab work in like five minutes, and he just spends all of his time in there watching bad daytime TV."

"Well," Jen said, lips twitching, "it would explain all of the giant monitors, anyhow."

"I'm monitoring interdimensional rifts my ass," Johnny said. "Bet he's secretly just watching soap operas. They're his guilty pleasure. Or maybe he studies the love scenes and lifts lines to use when he's talking to Sue. He and Sue sound like they walked straight outta one sometimes."

Jen burst out laughing at that image. "I really could not imagine Reed Richards watching a soap opera. Or stealing lines from one to say to his wife."

"Now I have to make him watch one," Johnny decided. "I'll take a picture of his face and send it to you. I'll wait for when one of the love scenes starts, and he starts to realize I've been right all these years, and he and Sue really do talk like that."

"Yes," Jen said earnestly. "Please do that."

"I'll get Ben to help," Johnny announced. "Or maybe I'll just give Reed my best sad eyes, and say that it'll help cheer me up. Which it would, so."

"Yeah," Jen said slowly, squinting at him. "Speaking of cheering you up, do you wanna talk about what's going on with Peter?" 

Johnny's shoulder hitched. "Pete won't talk to me," he said morosely. "What's there left to say?" His mouth twisted. "Y'know, after everything me 'nd him have been through, you'd think the least he could do is tell me to my face that he doesn't wanna talk to me anymore."

"He doesn't want to talk to you anymore?" she repeated, sounding surprised. "Are you sure that's what's going on?"

"No," Johnny said, "because he won't talk to me."

Johnny's mouth turned into a tight, thin line, and he took a steadying sip of coffee he didn't really want, trying to get rid of that too-tight feeling in his throat.

He was probably doing a pretty bad job of hiding how upset he was over Peter's recent cold shoulder, because Jen's eyes widened a bit with worry. She set her muffin down on her small white plate, signaling that she was going to give Johnny her full, undivided attention.

"Okay," she said, sounding very businesslike. "What exactly happened? Start from the beginning. We'll solve this, Torchy. I don't believe you two are gonna be over so easily. You guys've been really close lately. Kinda inseparable, the way Sue and Benjy tell it. Um. Everyone's been talking about it, really, ever since the wedding." She shrugged. "Superheroes, y'know. You make good gossip."

"Like...what type of talk?" Johnny asked, blinking in surprise. This was the first he'd heard of this mysterious talk in the superhero community.

"Pretty sure you know what kind," Jen said.

Johnny's mouth fell open as he realized what she meant. "Peter is _not_ gay, and neither am I!" he hissed. "What is _wrong_ with you guys? Why would you even _think_ that?"

Inwardly, he was panicking. The entire superhero community had sussed out that there was something going on with him and Peter? After seeing them together at _one_ wedding? And that had just been the Avengers, really, and just a couple of them at that, and, man, those guys had really big mouths!

Aw, hell. Maybe this was what Pete was pissed about. Maybe this was why he was avoiding him. Trying to stop the rumors.

Jen muttered something that sounded like, "We have eyes?" under her breath.

Johnny's face flushed scarlet at that, judging by how much it heated up anyways, but whether it was from anger or embarrassment he really didn't know. "You can't just decide random people are gay when they aren't!" he insisted. "That is _so_ not cool!"

Jen looked at him skeptically for a beat, took in his red face, and Johnny suddenly remembered that she was a lawyer, and a good one at that, and that part of being a good lawyer was being able to read body language. Uh-oh. His was probably screaming, "Guilty! I am so guilty of having the hots for Peter Parker!"

She heaved a sigh. "Look," she said, raising her hands in surrender. "I never said I was one of the people talking. Besides, you know what a bunch of old gossips we all are. If you guys don't do anything to fan the rumors, they'll fade away."

Johnny jabbed his spoon viciously into his coffee. "Damn right you all are," he muttered vindictively, trying to shove down the thought that he'd been guilty himself of spreading a fair bit of gossip, and that it was less pleasant when you were the one the gossip was being spread about.

Like when Steve and Tony had started dating, he'd blabbed about it to any other superhero who'd listen. But in his own defense, that had been too good to pass up. _Captain America_ was dating _Iron Man_? Just the fact that stodgy old stick-in-the-mud Cap was into dudes had been like Johnny's own personal Christmas present. Hilarious and awesome.

Jen sipped at her tea and watched a distant point off past Johnny's shoulder. Johnny didn't know what she was looking at, and really didn't feel like turning around to see.

"So," she said, eyes falling back on Johnny, "you want to tell me what's up, or not?"

"Yeah," Johnny sighed. "I guess. I just. I think I really messed up, Shulkie."

"How'd you mess up?" Jen tried.

"We just had an argument, and now he won't talk to me. You know me," he said, with a brave attempt at levity, "my mouth works faster than my brain sometimes. And I'm, y'know, a hothead, like Ben's always tellin' me."

"Yeah, Torch," Jen said kindly. "Everyone knows that. Peter must too. He can't be mad at you for shooting your mouth off. If he broke things off with you every time you did that, you would've stopped talking ages ago." She bit her lip. "So...can I ask what you argued about?"

Johnny shook his head immediately. "Nuh-uh," he said. "Can't tell you that. Private JohnnyPeter stuff."

"JohnnyPeter?" she asked incredulously, and with no small amount of amusement in her voice. "You've given you and him a Brangelina-style couple name? This is worse than I thought. You really _are_ ditzy about him." She snapped her fingers, disappointed. "Man, I'm gonna end up having to pay Jess those thirty bucks, aren't I?"

"It's not a couple name," Johnny said a little too loudly. "It's a—a, uh, the only nickname that can contain our awesomeness. More like our secret club name."

"Uh-huh," Jen said, sounding like she didn't quite believe him.

"And I'm _not_ ditzy about Peter," Johnny added. "I like girls, remember? You've seen some of the totally hot numbers I've gone out with. Supermodels 'nd stuff."

"Oh," Jen said immediately. "Right. Sorry, my mistake."

Johnny shrugged. "No," he said. "'s okay."

"It's just," Jen began before stopping herself. "I don't know if I should say this."

"Say what?" Johnny asked. "We're pals, go ahead and say it."

"I know I've seen you flirting with guys before," Jen said hesitantly. "The times we've been clubbing together, you get drunk enough, you, uh, you flirt with guys too, you know. The ones you think are hot, anyhow. Sometimes you even go home with them, and I don't mean in a friendly way. Unless friends have started sticking their tongues down each other's throats without me noticing. Which I guess is possible. I have been busy working a big case recently."

"Oh," Johnny said, startled. "I do? Around you?"

"Yeah," Jen said, nodding slowly. "You really do." She held up her hands. "And I am totally okay with that." She scrunched up her nose. "Was I wrong to have said that? I mean, should I have kept pretending I didn't know? I just wanted you to be able to talk to me about the Peter thing if you wanted to."

"No," Johnny said. "Erm, it's fine, I'm kinda glad you know, I just...please don't spread it around. That it's definitely true, I mean. I don't want the press getting wind of it or anything. Um, that would suck."

"Course I won't, Torchy," Jen said reassuringly. "Your secret is safe with me, I swear. So, um, now that I know... _are_ you two dating? Is this a lover's quarrel? Did you guys break up?" 

Johnny rolled his eyes at her . "No," he said. "But, uh, I would like to. Date him, I mean. I, uh, like him a lot. I mean, he's _really_ hot. And funny. And _so_ cute."

Jen took one look at his slightly dreamy expression, and said, smirking a little, "Wow. You really _have_ got it bad. That's quite the torch you're carrying, Torch."

"Yeah," Johnny agreed, letting his eyes drop back to his coffee, and starting to stir it slowly again. "That's the problem, though. He doesn't want to date me."

"Is _he_ really not gay?" Jen asked. "Is that why? Because, hate to break it to him, but straight boys don't dance with other boys the way he danced with you at Crystal's wedding."

"No, it isn't that," Johnny said, waving a hand. "I think he likes me well enough. He's just...been through a lot of really rough stuff lately, and he's kind of still working through it, and part of that is not being ready to date yet, I guess."

"Oh," Jen said. "I don't see what you can do about that apart from being patient with him." She winced. "Which is not something you're exactly good at."

"I know," Johnny said. "That's the other problem."

"Yeah," Jen replied, almost apologetically.

"I just kinda miss him, y'know?" he said quietly. "Things aren't the same without him."

Jen's eyes were filled with compassion as she reached out and wrapped a hand around his. "Hey," she said kindly. "If there's anything I can do, buddy, all you have to do is ask."

Johnny nodded at her immense, bright green hand, where it was wrapped around his relatively tiny pale peach one. "Thanks," he said.

* * *

For all that Johnny loved to proclaim—loudly, to anyone who'd listen—that he adored most those glorious moments that arose when he would emerge victorious from a trying battle, world saved, glory won, it wasn't entirely true.

What he would never admit in public (because it didn't at all fit into the image he cultivated so carefully) was that there was simply something about nights like tonight, when everything was still and calm and quiet, his family all around him, that he loved too.

He enjoyed being able to surreptitiously watch them all being them, being the four people he loved most, of all that he had encountered in all of the many universes and on all of the many worlds to which he had traveled.

Johnny was sometimes—not that he'd ever admit this out loud either—amazed that he'd been lucky enough to have been blessed with a family this large, all of whom loved him, just as much as he loved them.

Growing up had been lonely in more ways than one. Back then, his family had consisted of Sue, and that had been it. He'd loved his sister more than anything, really he had, but at times he'd been jealous of his classmates, or the ones who'd had a normal family life, at least. They could all go home to their mothers and fathers and brothers and sisters, to houses filled with people and noise and laughter.

Johnny couldn't.

It always made him feel as though his orphanhood set him apart, like a sort of brand, a mark of difference, that could never be erased.

A life marked by such terrible loss did that to a child. Gave them a sense of otherness, of aloneness. Johnny was no different.

It's why—he got it, what life must have been like for Peter as a kid, even if he'd never talked to him about it.

At school, before his powers, Johnny'd put on a smiling face for his classmates, trying to blend in, trying to seem normal, hoping that no one would ever find out that he wasn't, or take note of the loss and grief that trailed in his wake.

His superpowers had, in that sense, been a boon—they'd been an outward sign of his difference, one that he could be proud of, one that he didn't have to hide.

Feeling different had always been the last thing he'd wanted. He'd longed desperately to be normal, to be just like everyone else, and that had included having a family of his own.

But now, things weren't like that anymore. Now, he wasn't so lonely anymore. Now, he had a place where he fit in, and a family every bit as large and loving as the ones he'd gazed at with such envy as a child.

Nights like these, Johnny counted himself one of the luckiest guys on Earth. Maybe even the universe. Of all the many paths he'd thought his life would take him down as a child, he'd never thought he'd be lucky enough to wind up with a family this...fantastic.

Tonight, Johnny'd decided to enjoy their company, to sit and truly appreciate what it was he had. Sometimes he focused so much on what he couldn't have (Peter), that he lost sight of what he did have (his family).

Never mind what he'd lost—maybe—with Peter. He still had so much. Best to focus on that, and forget about...about Peter, even if it was just for tonight.

When they all settled in the living room for a quiet night in (for once—nights like these were rare, because between superheroing and all of the requisite public appearances and charity events and significant others they rarely ever got a chance to just stay home, all four of them), Johnny'd managed to snag the couch by the window, which gave him the chance to splay out and watch everyone else in the room without making it too obvious. He was kind of playing his Nintendo DS too, but that didn't really stop him from very surreptitiously scoping out what everyone else was up to.

Out of the corner of his eye, he peered over at Sue, who was busy being all responsible, like always, paying bills and balancing the FF's bank accounts. It was a sight he was very accustomed to—she'd been doing it once a month, nearly as long as he could remember.

Judging by the worried frown on her face and the anxious way she was chewing on the end of her pen, Johnny suspected it wasn't going particularly well this month.

He'd offered to help a few times—not completely seriously, of course—but for some reason she'd been dead set against it. Johnny should probably be offended, he supposed, but she was probably right not to let him within ten miles of the FF's finances. Johnny had the bad habit of spending money like it was burning a hole in his pocket.

Reed was sitting on the couch next to the desk, as close to Sue as he could get without sitting at the desk with her.

He always did that when they were together. Got as close as he could to Sue, like he couldn't get enough of just being around her, just being in her presence, even after having been together for years.

Johnny understood what that was like now.

Reed was cradling a slumbering Franklin in one arm and balancing a science journal in the other, somehow managing to look bafflingly sweet and paternal and sciency all at once.

It was interesting watching him wrestle his way into turning the page one-handed each time, since his journal kept almost slipping off his lap each time he tried.

It was cute that he didn't want to jostle Franklin awake so badly that he'd put himself through all of that trouble. Reed was nice that way. Franklin was lucky to have a dad like Reed. Johnny wished he'd had a dad like that, instead of the dad he'd gotten, what with the drinking and the gambling and the lying about being dead and the murder and the jail time and the really dying.

Maybe his life would've been different then. Better. Less lonely.

Ben was sitting next to Reed, and Johnny wasn't totally sure what he was up to, but judging by the way he was leaning over the coffee table, frowning at a piece of paper, and occasionally scribbling things on it, Johnny thought he was probably writing a letter.

Why the hell anyone would write a letter in the age of emails and text messages, Johnny didn't know. But then again, Ben and new technology weren't exactly best buds.

Johnny always made fun of him because of the embarrassingly long time it took him to figure out how to use all of the phones Reed designed. It kind of felt like Ben'd just about start getting the hang of one—well, he stopped asking Johnny for help quite as often, anyhow—before Reed was handing out the newest model.

Ben might be the best when it came to piloting jets and spaceships, but hand him a smartphone and he couldn't make heads or tails of the apps, half the time.

Johnny just hoped it wasn't those goons from Yancy Street Ben was writing to, because that would mean they were harassing poor Ben again, and Johnny hated it when that happened.

Ben got all sulky when they started bugging him, and Johnny hated it when Ben was sulky. He was no fun like that.

Johnny preferred a Ben who was in exactly the right mood to chase him all through the building, screaming bloody murder at him for replacing his toothpaste with shaving cream, or something hilarious like that.

Yep. Definitely the best Ben.

Even if that did have a habit of ending with either Sue or Reed yelling at them for, as they put it, all of the completely unnecessary (and very expensive) property destruction.

Well, screw them, Johnny thought it was completely necessary sometimes. He and Ben were men of action—they'd die of boredom if they couldn't chase each other around the Baxter Building, trying their very best to kill each other (but not actually—Johnny would never do anything to really hurt Ben, who was one of his very best friends, and he knew the opposite was true too).

"Hey, Einstein," Ben called to Reed over his shoulder. "D'ya spell despicable with three E's or four?"

Johnny snickered. "Neither, genius."

Ben looked at him haughtily. "Not all o' us went ta college, college boy. An' I was talkin' ta Big Brain over there, not you."

" _You_ went to college, moron!" Johnny said heatedly, getting a perverse sense of satisfaction out of Ben's snarky reply. "You met Reed there, remember, genius? All-American quarterback and all of that?"

"Yeah, well, that's beside the point. I ain't never been good at spellin'," Ben countered, "an', anyhow, that doesn't have nothin' ta do with how smart I am."

"Johnny, Ben's right, and don't be rude to him," Reed chided. "It's very childish."

Johnny threw up his hands indignantly and made disgruntled noises that never quite made it all the way to anything resembling words. Reed's condescension he could live without.

Reed ignored him. "Two," he told Ben. "The second vowel's an 'I', and the third is an 'A'."

"Oh," Ben said, scribbling something into his letter. "See, now _that_ wuz actually helpful."

"That was a dig at me, did everyone hear that?" Johnny said accusingly.

No one cared enough about _him_ to spring to _his_ defense, while everyone (well, Reed) sprang immediately to Ben's.

It was pretty clear who everyone's favorite was, and it wasn't Johnny.

"Yer not gonna start sulkin' again, are ya, kid?" Ben inquired, somewhat tauntingly.

"No," Johnny scowled. "I am _not_."

"Good," Ben said. "Don't wanna tick off Susie by upsettin' her little brother."

"So you don't care about my feelings because of me, just because of Sue," Johnny said flatly.

"Pretty much," Ben said.

Johnny knew he was just saying that to mess with him, but still, what an ever-lovin', blue-eyed _jerk_.

"When did this turn into pick on Johnny night?" Johnny grumbled sullenly into the silence, and no, he absolutely was not pouting sullenly.

Maybe there was kind of a downside to having a family. Being supplanted as everyone's favorite (which he usually was) by a pile of orange rocks, for one. Well, it was fine, Johnny was pretty sure that his good looks and charm would instantly get him back into everyone's good graces. A couple of well-timed, flattering smiles should do the trick. No one could resist the old Storm charm, not even another Storm.

Well, okay, maybe Sue could, because she was smart enough to figure out what he was up to. It was fine. After years of being raised by Sue, Johnny was positive he could figure out some way to butter her up.

Or maybe he should just act depressed again, and they'd all be waiting on him hand and foot. Heh. That would be awesome. For awhile, at least. He kind of liked that they were being a little more normal with him today, for whatever reason, and teasing him like normal.

"It's always pick on Johnny night, baby bro," Sue quipped distractedly, focusing on writing a check with a lot of zeroes. "Tomorrow night we'll be sure to send you a memo to remind you."

Nope. Forget the buttering up. That crack? That meant war.

Johnny sighed melodramatically, trying his best to sound very put-upon. "And here I was, enjoyin' the way we were all sitting here, all peaceful and whatnot, without anyone trying to kill us, for once, and without squabbling."

Guilt tripping. Especially about family stuff. Always worked with Sue.

Her turn to make outraged noises. And scowl at him.

Johnny had to try his best not to laugh out loud at her reaction. He rubbed his hand against his mouth to hide a smile.

"Someone is probably trying to kill us somewhere, Jonathan," Reed said dryly. "I'm sure we'll find out about it eventually."

"An' then we'll clobber 'em, like always," Ben agreed. "It'll be fun. An' don't be naive, squirt, we always squabble when we're together. It's too fun ta not." He rubbed at his stomach, put down his pen, and got to his feet. "Hey," he said. "I want a snack. Anyone else want somethin' while I'm in the kitchen? Speak now, or you c'n all jus' get it fer yerselves."

"A new family?" Johnny said hopefully. "Think you can get me that, Benjy?"

Not that Johnny really wanted another one. He liked this one just fine, most of the time. When they weren't making fun of him.

Being the baby of the group kind of sucked, that was for sure. Johnny couldn't wait until Franklin got a little older, so they'd stop babying him so much. He was nineteen, for god's sake, and getting a little tired of the way they all treated him like he was closer to five, sometimes.

"Eh," Ben said, as he walked past him, heading for the kitchen. "I think we're outta those, pipsqueak. Yer outta luck."

Johnny snapped his fingers, disappointed. "Damn," he called after Ben. "Maybe Reed can build me one."

"That sounds more like something up Tony Stark's alley," Reed said casually, not lifting his eyes up from the page he was reading.

Johnny shot up instantly. "Oh my god," he whispered, wide-eyed. "Is the great Reed Richards admitting that there's something sciency he can't do? Something that Tony Stark can do better? Wait, wait, wait." He quickly tossed his DS onto the couch next to him, pulled out his phone, and started filming Reed. "I need to record this for posterity. Say it again, Reed."

Reed shot Johnny a not-very-pleased look. "Put the phone away, Jonathan. Even if you did manage to record something I found embarrassing, it would be child's play for me to hack into your phone and delete it, given that I designed it."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Johnny said, lowering his phone. "Come again?"

"I can hack into your phone's information fairly easily?" Reed repeated. "I thought that was fairly obvious."

"What?" Johnny said. "Like...anything I've done with it?"

There were, uh, some conversations he'd had with some ex-lovers he really wouldn't want Reed reading. And, uh, also some pictures. Where he was maybe less than fully clothed. Like, _significantly_ less than fully clothed.

And, uh, he might've gotten snarky with Peter about Reed a few times. Reed liked to be all mature and no fun and stuff, and Johnny just got annoyed by it sometimes, and Peter was usually a good person to vent to about it, seeing as how he worked pretty closely with Reed most of the time, so he knew what Johnny was talking about.

Reed probably wouldn't be too fond of their Reed-has-a-stick-up-his-butt running gag, that was for sure. Johnny said it with all the love in the world, y'know, because Reed was his brother and all, but still, he couldn't deny that the guy could really maybe lighten up sometimes.

Take last week, for instance, when Reed had gotten upset with Johnny because he'd spent too much money. It hadn't been all that much—honestly, just a couple thousand—and besides, it'd been for a good cause. Y'know, Johnny's post-Peter argument binge shopping. Which he'd gone on with Shulkie, because spending extravagant amounts of money with her always cheered him up. It'd really made him feel better...for a couple of hours at least.

It'd culminated in him going out and revenge-buying Peter's favorite hot dogs, and then posting pictures of himself eating them on Instagram. At Shulkie's prompting, of course.

Peter'd seen them, he was sure, because Peter's Instagram the next day had been filled with pictures of him eating Johnny's favorite French fries, and Peter didn't even like French fries. Also, Peter's Instagram was mostly full of kind of artsy and professional photos he'd taken around town, and those...weren't very artsy.

Clearly, he'd just posted them out of sheer spite.

Johnny'd gotten a weird sense of satisfaction out of it, though, because it meant Peter at least still cared enough about him to get pissed, even if he did seem dead set on ignoring all of Johnny's well-meaning attempts to talk to him.

"And anywhere you've been while it's been on you," Reed was saying, very matter-of-factly, when Johnny tuned back in to the conversation, after his mini internal panic attack. "And I could also very likely turn on the microphone to pick up any ambient noise, if I wanted to." He waved a hand. "Child's play, like I said."

"But you wouldn't," Johnny checked. "And you haven't."

"If I believed you were in any kind of danger?" Reed said very sincerely. "Johnny, I would do it in a heartbeat."

Well, that certainly had a ring of truth to it. If there was one thing Reed cared about more than science, it was his family. He'd do just about anything to protect them, and for Reed, anything meant one hell of a lot.

"But you could do it whenever you wanted, though," Johnny said. "Not just when I'm in danger. That's what's stickin' in my craw. Like, you're bored one day, and, oh, hey, what's Johnny up to? Let's check his phone! I don't like that, Reed."

"Well, I can do it with your uniform's computer as well, you know," Reed said. "It actually monitors your heart rate fairly constantly to ensure you aren't in danger. And it compiles and sends data to my systems regularly as well."

Johnny blinked at Reed, horrified, stricken into silence. "Reed, come on, man, you gotta delete that stuff, y'know."

"I assure you I wouldn't access it without a valid reason," Reed said. "And I would not be at all interested in viewing what I suspect you're worried about. I find it rather odd that you think I would be."

"There are embarrassing things I do that don't have anything to do with sex, thanks," Johnny said, without thinking.

Reed raised an eyebrow at him. "Yes, Jonathan, I am well aware. I have known you for approximately eleven years, after all, and whatever else you may think, I am not quite that oblivious."

"Hey!" Johnny said indignantly, before amending that to, "I think." He crossed his arms. "Well, are you going to delete the stuff or aren't you?"

"I will consider it," Reed said. "Does that satisfy you?"

Johnny was actually _not_ appeased by that. "Not really?"

Reed sighed. "I fear that is the best I can do for you, Jonathan. There are far too many potential dangers out there for me to do otherwise."

"I light on fire," Johnny reminded him. "Also, not an eight-year-old kid anymore, Reed. Don't need you peeking over my shoulder all of the time like I still am."

Sue harrumphed from her desk.

Reed and Johnny both turned to peer at her.

"Got somethin' to say, sis?" Johnny inquired, making sure there was a steely edge to his voice. He already knew where this was headed.

Sue slammed her pen down on the desk, hard. "You get into just as much trouble as ever, little bro. If you're really as grown up as you say, you might wanna start acting like it."

Johnny scowled at her. "I act plenty grown up," he snapped. "And anyways, grown-ups are boring. Look at you and Reed! Dullsville."

"You act grown up when you feel like it," she retorted. "And only then. And those times are incredibly rare. Most of the time you still act like a teenager. And we are _not_ boring. We're Mr. Fantastic and the Invisible Woman, what's boring about that?"

Johnny threw up his hands. "I _am_ a teenager?! I don't see why I shouldn't get to act like one, while I still am one. What's this really about, sis?"

"Maybe the mess you left in the kitchen this morning?" she said accusingly.

He mentally pumped both fists in the air enthusiastically. 

Sue was lecturing him about making a mess, _finally_ , after he'd been trying to prod her into it for days.

He'd finally broken her, and emerged victorious, and all was right with the world, at long last.

"I got up early to make you all breakfast," he countered. "C'mon, that was nice of me!"

"Yes, it was very nice," she conceded. "Just next time, clean up your mess. You know, like an actual adult."

"When did this turn into a conversation about what's wrong with me?" Johnny queried. "Weren't we talking about Reed spying on us?"

"Don't be so melodramatic, Jonathan," Reed chided. "I am not spying on any of you. Technically, my computers are. I am hardly involved."

Johnny rolled his eyes. "Okay," he snapped. "Whatever. I don't care anymore."

He and went back to playing his DS to signal that the conversation, as far as he was concerned, was over.

Johnny kind of registered that Reed and Sue were conversing silently, the way he hated. Probably about how best to handle the surly teenager in the room.

Johnny kind of held his breath while they decided. They were either gonna lecture him or decide it wasn't really worth it, and save their lectures for another day.

Personally, Johnny hoped they settled on the latter. As part of their way too considerate thing.

He was pretty relieved when Reed gave up fairly quickly, and resumed his reading. Sue just sighed and went back to her bills.

Johnny waited a few beats, just to lull them into a sense of complacency. "Now, I've got a very important question for you, Reed, old buddy, old pal."

"Yes, Jonathan?" Reed said, eyeing him warily, perhaps recognizing his tone of voice.

"So, do you want to tell Tony Stark he's better at science than you, or should I?" Johnny said, just to needle Reed.

Reed shot him a look. "That is hardly what I said," he said. "I am simply not quite as interested in that particular brand of robotics and artificial intelligence as Tony Stark. At the moment, at least. Although, I must say, I have been meaning to get around to it some weekend. I'm sure I could surpass Mr. Stark's fairly rudimentary efforts in no time at all. I have been thinking of designing an AI to run this place and take care of security for us."

"Weekends are for family," Sue chimed in, voice sharp and unforgiving, jabbing a pen in Reed's direction. "Don't even think about it."

Reed gestured at Sue. "And that would be why I haven't gotten around to it yet." He waved a hand. "Talk to your sister, if you would like me to try my hand at it."

"So, just out of curiosity," Johnny said. "If you did master it, and I wanted you to build me a really hot boyfriend or girlfriend, could you do that for me, please, please, please? I would totally forgive you for spying on me, if you did."

Reed frowned at him. "Jonathan," he said flatly, "I hardly think that's ethical. I could, I assume, construct an android of some kind, but whether or not they desired to date you would be entirely their decision. And, anyways, aren't you rather infatuated with Mr. Parker at the moment?"

Johnny snorted. "Well," he said, hoping he didn't sound too pathetic or sorry for himself, but suspecting he was failing miserably, "considering that he's not answering my phone calls or text messages, and ducking the other way when he sees me coming, I may have messed that up permanently."

"Oh, Johnny," Sue said compassionately, looking up from her bills. "Is that what's been going on? I am so very sorry about that. Do you want to talk about it?"

Inwardly, Johnny harrumphed. Sue would love that, he was sure.

He waved a hand dismissively. "No, it's fine," he said tonelessly. "Totally fine. It's awesome, in fact." He cleared his throat. "Now I won't have to, um, put up with all of his stupid moodiness. Or the annoying way he always ate all of my food. This is probably better, really. I won't starve to death now, anyhow."

Sue and Reed started having a silent conversation again. Ugh.

"Guys," Johnny said flatly. "Seriously, stop that. Would you please let people who don't know secret married people eye language in on what you're saying?"

"You just...don't actually sound very happy about, um, losing Peter," Sue ventured.

"Oh," Johnny groaned, burying his head in his hands. "Don't put it like that. Please. We're just...temporarily on a friend break. And we'll get over it. Put it like that."

"Fine," Sue said. "You don't sound too happy about your temporary friend break-up."

Johnny winced. "Nope," he said. "Never mind. That just sounds worse."

Sue shot him a look. "Fine," she tried again, sounding a little exasperated. "Your current situation with Peter doesn't seem to be making you very happy."

"Yeah, okay, that sounds better. But I'm fine," he said, tilting his chin up stubbornly. "I'll get over him in no time. You'll see."

"Weren't you going to talk to his friend?" Sue asked.

"Yeah," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Prolly should."

Reed opened his mouth to say something.

"Hey," Ben's voice called from the doorway. "You lunkheads'll never guess who I found wanderin' around by the elevator."

"Peter?" Johnny asked hopefully, craning his neck around to see.

Out from behind Ben (who was carrying a truly gigantic sandwich on a large white plate, or more accurately a tray, Johnny supposed) slunk a slightly wide-eyed Mary Jane.

"You _live_ here?" she said to Johnny, sounding very impressed and perhaps a tad incredulous. "Fancy."

Johnny sprang to his feet. "MJ!" he said, overjoyed.

Johnny'd put her on his list of approved visitors months ago. He'd kind of forgotten all about that.

"Hey, Fireboy," she said, beaming at him. "Long time no see."

Johnny squinted at her warily, trying to figure out if she was here to yell at him or what.

"It's okay," she reassured him, holding out her arms for a hug. "I'm not angry. Not with you, anyhow."

A delighted smile spread across his face. Well, he decided, to hell with it, he wasn't going to pretend to be all standoffish for no reason. He rushed forward and swept her up into a big hug.

He felt happier than he had in days, not since this whole nightmare with Peter started. Finally, some hope that he might be able to fix things with Peter.

Mary Jane laughed quietly into his shoulder. "Well," she said, feet dangling a few inches off the ground. "Looks like somebody missed me."

"Yes, I did," he said, not able to make himself stop beaming at her, setting her carefully back on her feet. "It's good to see you again, princess." He put both hands on her shoulders. "Help me, Mary Jane Watson. You're my only hope."

"Of course I will, Flamebrain," MJ said. "I assume you mean with Peter, and not with, like, your fashion sense."

"Yes, and thank you, thank you, thank you," Johnny half-chanted, pulling her into another hug.

He jerked back when he realized exactly what she'd said. "Fashion sense?!" he scowled. "What's wrong with my fashion sense?"

"Oh nothing," MJ said, very insincerely, and a tad too patronizingly for Johnny to be entirely content with it.

"Aw," Ben teased, as he settled back down next to Reed, carefully placing his sandwich on the coffee table. "Ain't you two sweet."

"Can it, you big pile of rocks," Johnny snapped, turning and scowling at that no-good, annoying jerk.

"Johnny," Sue chided. "Be nice to Ben."

"Why does everyone always take _his_ side?" Johnny lamented.

Sue ignored that rather pointedly, and walked up to Mary Jane and offered her a hand. "Hello," she smiled graciously. "I'm Susan Richards. My brother's mentioned you before. Quite a few times, actually. He seems fairly taken with you."

"Oh," MJ said, laughing nervously as she shook Sue's hand.

She looked a bit starstruck, really, to be meeting Sue.

Johnny was rather offended. She definitely hadn't been starstruck when she met him.

Why was everyone always so obsessed with Sue? Johnny had never really understood that.

She was awesome as far as big sisters went, but people went really gaga over her. Like, Helen of Troy, I will start a war to win you crazy.

It made no sense to Johnny whatsoever. Couldn't they see how annoying and bossy she could be?

Oh well. Johnny supposed he should add everyone's weird obsession with Sue to the list of things he'd never understand. Like why the hell Captain America had tiny wings on the side of his helmet. Or why Namor had tiny wings on his _feet_ , for that matter.

"Taken with _me_ ," MJ said, sounding very flattered, a little skeptical. "Sure. Um, well, it's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Richards."

"Relax," Johnny leaned over to tell her reassuringly. "I told them everything about what's going on with Peter. Like, that I have a monster crush on him, I mean."

MJ's face darkened at his words. "Hey!" she growled as punched his shoulder as hard as she could without warning.

Johnny let out an indignant 'ow!'

She must've had deceptively thin little arms, because, man, that really hurt.

"You know, stuff like coming out to your family you tell me about," she told him, sounding very displeased, "regardless of whether or not you and my idiot best friend are arguing."

"'Idiot best friend'?" Johnny asked, frowning, still rubbing at where she'd punched him. "What'd he do this time?"

"Plenty," MJ scowled, folding her arms across her chest. "Mostly about you. He's being dumb, and I just want to wring his scrawny little neck on principle."

"No change there, then?" Johnny joked.

MJ sighed and shook her head, and Johnny was suddenly very glad that he wasn't the one that sigh was directed at. "Truer words have never been spoken."

She looked over at Sue, who was smiling very politely, but very transparently eavesdropping on their conversation, and at Ben, who was munching at his sandwich, but oh so obviously listening to them too, and with great interest at that.

She raised both eyebrows at Johnny quizzically. "Erm, could we maybe go say mean things about Peter in private somewhere?"

"Sure," Johnny said. "Sounds fun. We can go to my room."

"No," Sue cut in, voice firm. "Your room is definitely not fit for visitors of any kind."

"Yeah," Ben agreed. "It looks like someone threw up in there. Smells a little like it too."

Johnny's mouth dropped open indignantly. "It is _not_ that bad!" he huffed.

"My wife and Ben are entirely correct, Ms. Watson," Reed counseled from the sofa, where he was trying to coax a fussy Franklin back to sleep. "I would advise you to request to go elsewhere. The roof should be rather pleasant this time of evening."

"Yes, please," MJ said, turning back to Johnny. "Let's go there. No moldy socks or dirty Johnny underwear, please."

"Fine," Johnny said, throwing up his hands. "Roof it is. But, erm, let's go to the kitchen first, yeah? I wanna get somethin' to drink while we're up there."

Ben'd bought some beer that morning. Johnny'd seen it, hidden in the back of the fridge, and he was aiming on stealing some for himself and MJ.

"No beer," Sue warned. Damn her. It was almost like she could read his mind sometimes. Johnny hated that. "I'll know if you take some of Ben's beer. I counted them."

Johnny made a face at her. "But, Sue!" he whined. "I'm almost _twenty_."

"But not almost twenty-one," Sue pointed out. "Which, last time I checked, was the legal drinking age in the U.S."

"In some parts of the world, I'd be old enough to drink," Johnny tried.

"But not here," she said. "No alcohol."

"Fine," he said, annoyed. "Be that way. Destroy all my fun."

See, world that was weirdly obsessed with Sue? She was a major killjoy, and so totally annoying.

Sue sighed. "You're not old enough to drink, and you're a superhero. You must understand why setting a good example for young people is so important. You can't be seen drinking."

Johnny rolled his eyes. "Sometimes being a superhero sucks."

"Oh, I'm sure it's terrible," MJ said, clearly humoring him. "We'll just drink sodas on the roof, Mrs. Richards, I promise."

"Thank you, Mary Jane," Sue said gratefully. "I appreciate it."

"If you can get him not to drink, Mrs. Richards," MJ asked curiously, "why can't you get him to clean his room?"

"We have a deal," Sue explained. "He cleans up after himself in the common areas, and in return, he can do what he likes in his room."

"Does he actually clean up after himself?" MJ asked.

"No," Sue admitted, mouth twisting to one side. "He does not." She sighed. "Little brothers. They can be a real headache."

"Wouldn't know," MJ said. "I only have an older sister."

"Now they can be annoying," Johnny said triumphantly. "Am I right?"

Mary Jane shook her head at him. "You really don't know how important they are until they're gone, Fireboy. Appreciate yours."

"Did you hear that, little brother?" Sue said, whacking the back of Johnny's head. "Appreciate me." She turned back to MJ. "Now, then. Do you think you could get him to listen to me next?"

"No," Mary Jane smirked. "But if you got Mrs. Parker over here, she could get him to do just about anything."

"Yes," Sue said. "Peter mentioned that. I'll have to try it sometime."

"Did...something happen to your sister?" Johnny cut in, not liking where the conversation was heading anyways.

"We aren't really speaking at the moment," MJ shrugged, downcast. "I have a nephew I've never even met."

"Oh," Johnny winced, turning to look at his own nephew, who was looking pretty darn cute, Johnny had to admit, snuggled in his dad's arms. Johnny tried to imagine what it would be like to know he existed but never be able to see him. Ouch. "That sucks. I'm really sorry, MJ."

"Yeah, well," MJ said, mouth twisting. "My family's pretty messed up. At least yours is nice."

"Sometimes," Johnny said, glaring at them all pointedly. " _Some_ of them can be." He pointed at Ben. "Except him, he's just a jerk."

"Aw," Ben sniffed, scooping Johnny up into a bone-crushing hug (literally, Johnny could've sworn he heard a rib or two crack). "I love ya too, pipsqueak."

"Help," Johnny croaked, face mashed against Ben's chest. "I'm being killed by an evil, sadistic rockslide. Quick, somebody heroic, save me."

Sue was staring at them indecisively, and not moving. "Nope," she decided, shaking her head and moving to sit back down at her desk. "Not getting involved in your shenanigans. You two work it out between you."

"That's okay," Johnny snarked. "I said somebody heroic. Not somebody annoying."

Sue's head snapped up, and she leveled a glare at him that might've been scary if she wasn't his sister. "Yep," she said. "Definitely not helping, baby bro. You're on your own."

Johnny wriggled around until he was facing Reed. "Help me, oh fearless leader."

Reed glanced down at his sleeping son, and Johnny knew the battle was lost. "I don't want to wake Franklin," he hedged. "I'm afraid you're on your own against the rockslide. You can figure out a way to escape. I believe in you, lad."

"Now," Ben rumbled, "Y'see? No one else's gonna help ya cause yer bein' rude. 'pologize fer bein' mean, an' I'll put ya down."

Johnny struggled in Ben's arms before giving up. It was completely futile. Ben was a million times stronger, and fire didn't affect him much. The only times their games were any fun was before Ben caught him, cause once he did, the jig was up. 

"Fine," he huffed sullenly. "Sorry I called you a rockslide, you rockslide."

"Eh, I'll take it," Ben said, and set him down gingerly. "Don't worry, kid, I wuz gonna put ya down eventually. Y'know, after I learned ya some manners."

"Ow," Johnny said, rubbing at his ribs. "I think I have internal injuries. Reed, do your X-ray thing."

"Perhaps later," Reed said indifferently, reading his journal. "I'm busy right now."

"You see?" Johnny complained to Mary Jane. "I'm dying over here from being crushed to death by Benjy and no one even cares! Some family!"

"Oh shush," MJ said. "They'd care if you were really hurt, and you know it. They just know you're being a drama queen right now. Because you like attention. Classic younger sibling syndrome. Believe me, I know. Why do you think I like acting so much? It's the attention. I admit it, I own it, I embrace it."

"I do not like attention," Johnny scowled, crossing his arms, just to be contrary. She was probably right, but he wasn't in the mood to admit it just now.

Mary Jane looked at him skeptically. "Right," she said, patting his shoulder, although she was clearly just humoring him, and Johnny resented that so very, very much. "Of course, you don't, Johnny. Now, why don't we go get you a drink? I'll pay tons of attention to you, promise, even though you don't actually like attention."

Johnny narrowed his eyes at her. "Fine," he said ill-temperedly. "Let's go. Kitchen's this way."

MJ winked at the others and followed him.

"I like 'er," Ben announced. "She teases the runt. 'S good enough for me."

"She seems nice," Sue said.

"Johnny does seem very fond of her," Reed agreed.

"So we all like 'er," Ben nodded. "It's decided then."

* * *

"Why's there a drawing of baby-you making heart eyes at a baby-Peter on your fridge?" Mary Jane asked, squinting at it.

The drawing—not a very skilled one, really—was of a flamed-on, baby version of Johnny with hearts for eyes, staring at an indifferent baby Peter in a white lab coat who was busy mixing chemicals in beakers and completely ignoring Johnny.

Whoever'd drawn it had managed to capture the substance of their relationship beautifully.

"Oh," Johnny said, blushing a little as he opened two bottles of Ben's beer. "Ben drew it. He thinks it's funny."

"But why are you babies?" she asked.

"Because he thinks we're practically babies," Johnny explained. "Even though we're both clearly very mature."

"Oh, sure you are," MJ said wryly. "Well, tell him I think it's very cute."

"He's an ass," Johnny said, rolling his eyes. "He does this sort of thing every time I date somebody. He thinks he's so hilarious."

"He's a little bit hilarious," Mary Jane said. "I kind of want to frame this and put it on my wall."

"He's drawn dozens," Johnny sighed. "I tried tearing them down for awhile, but there was always just a new one every time I came back."

"He's just teasing you," Mary Jane said. "Families tend to do that. If you didn't get so riled up, y'know, he'd probably get bored with it pretty quick."

"Yeah, probably," he conceded. "But it keeps things lively around here. Ben 'n' me have been teasing each other for years. It's fun. I'll get back at him eventually. Maybe I should draw some of him and Alicia. I could draw Alicia getting crushed by an orange rockslide. That'd teach 'im."

"Probably not," MJ replied. "But you should just go right ahead and do whatever you want, since you will anyhow."

"That I will," Johnny said. He snagged the beers from the counter. "Roof?" he asked, holding them up.

"Okay," MJ said, reaching out for one.

Johnny drew his hands back. "Nuh-uh," he said. "Gotta hide these. If Sue sees them, we're toast." He stuck them under his shirt. The only problem was that his shirt was fairly tight, and it hid exactly nothing.

MJ made a face. "I don't think I want one anymore. Dirty Johnny shirt."

"Oh my god," he scowled. "My shirt is clean!" He gestured at his shirt. "Unstable molecules," he added, nodding significantly.

"Whatever," she said, waving a hand. "I have no idea what that even means. You can have both."

"I am risking incurring my sister's wrath for you," Johnny hissed. "The least you can do is drink it. She'll probably try to ground me if she catches us."

"Can she still do that?" MJ said, squinting at him. "Aren't you a little old to be grounded? You're almost twenty."

Johnny rolled his eyes. "Try telling her that. Doesn't really work out well for her when she does it, since I can just fly out the window."

MJ snorted. 

* * *

Johnny and Mary Jane took awhile to get around to chatting about Peter.

They settled down on a pair of deck chairs, enjoying the balmy night air, the stars twinkling overhead, and the glittering lights of the city.

First, they discussed MJ's latest—failed—attempts to get onstage, and Johnny's recent purchase of that 1950s Corvette. 

Finally, Johnny worked up the courage to ask somewhat nervously, "So, uh, princess, why, um, why's Peter not talking to me? It's _not_ just that he's still angry at me over our argument, is it?"

MJ sighed, sounding a little more exasperated than Johnny was comfortable with, and rubbed at her cheek. "Just warning you," she said. "You aren't going to like this."

"Well," Johnny informed her. "I already don't, so."

"Alright, well, I'm just gonna make this short and not-so-sweet. It'll be like ripping off a band-aid." She took a deep breath. "So, Peter, in his infinite wisdom, has decided that people who get too near to him invariably get hurt, so being his friend is too dangerous. For you, I mean. So he thinks you shouldn't be friends anymore."

Johnny stared at her, dumbstruck, and then face-palmed. "That is just...so Pete, isn't it?" he said. 

"It is," she said. "It is exactly like him. Sorry."

He wrenched his hand away from his face. "Did you try to explain that I'm, you know, a superhero too? And that I don't need him to protect me?"

"Tried," MJ said. "Failed to convince."

"Did you mention the whole lights on fire thing?"

"Tried that too," she said, shaking her head. "No go." Her mouth twisted to one side. "I really think you're just going to have to talk to him."

Johnny threw up his hands. " _I have been trying_ ," he said. "What do you think I've been _doing_? Pete's ignoring me, ducking my calls, avoiding me. He's really hard to get ahold of when he doesn't want to talk to you, it turns out."

"Have you really?" MJ said, surprised. "I thought—the way Pete was talking, I thought for sure you hadn't tried to contact him yet."

"Well, I have been," Johnny said. "Didn't you see my sky messages? A week, I tried."

"I did," MJ frowned. "He just ignored the sky messages?"

"Yep," Johnny said. "Not a word out of him. Well, he did sort of respond when I posted those pictures of me and Shulkie eating his favorite hot dogs. But that's about it."

"Yeah," MJ said, lips twitching. "I saw those. Funny. The Spider-Man napkins were a nice touch."

"Best way to tick Pete off," he shrugged. 

"Worked too," she smirked. "There was a mini-rant about those pictures from Pete, y'know." She sighed. "Wish I'd filmed it. You would've loved it. He was so funny, and kind of cute about it."

"Yeah," Johnny said, a bit more wistfully than he'd planned. He really did wish he'd gotten to hear that. "How'm I gonna fix this, MJ? Because I got no clue what to do next."

She chewed her lower lip a while, considering his options. "You need to make him talk to you, Flamebrain. It's the only way to get through to him. And _you_ have to do it. He doesn't listen to me the way he listens to you. It's probably why he's so determined not to talk to you at all. He probably knows you can talk him out of this, no sweat."

"Nice if true, but we'll see," Johnny said. "It's not like I've got a magic wand or something that'll make Pete do whatever I want." He frowned. "Hey, do you think Reed could build me one? Well, a science wand, anyhow."

MJ snorted. "No magic wands. Or science wands. 'Fraid you're gonna have to do this the hard way, Fireboy."

"If I could get Pete in one place, where he couldn't run off two seconds later," Johnny said, "I could _maybe_  talk him into being friends again. But he just," he threw up his hands, "runs off every time I get near him."

"That _is_ a problem," MJ said. "Keeping Pete in one place when he doesn't want to be there is even more of one."

"Yeah," Johnny said, swallowing down a swig of beer. "You see my problem?"

"Yes," MJ said. "I do." Her brow furrowed. "You know what's weird about this whole thing, though?"

"Everything?" Johnny suggested.

"Yeah, well, no, I mean that he's decided that he's too dangerous for you to hang around, but not me, and not his Aunt May." She raised her eyebrows at Johnny. "You might wanna think about why that is."

"I dunno," Johnny said. "He's still pissed at me, and using that as a stupid excuse?"

"I don't think that's what it is, somehow," MJ said, shaking her head. "That doesn't feel right. Mark my words. Something happened between the wedding and when I talked to him. Someone got hurt or something, and he's afraid it'll happen to you too, so he's pushing you away to keep you safe."

"Which is stupid," Johnny interjected.

"Yeah," MJ conceded. "I agree with you on that one. But—well, you might want to consider that you're the one he wants to protect, even though, rationally, he must know you don't really need much protecting. No, there's something different about you, or how he feels about you, that's making him freak out like this." She bit her lip. "I dunno. You think maybe he's started to figure out how he feels about you, and that's why he's freaking out and pushing you away? That might be true too." She turned to look at him quizzically. "Anything at the wedding support my hypothesis?"

Johnny thought back to the wedding, to the way Peter'd held Johnny close while they danced, like he'd never wanted to let go again, to the way Peter'd curled around Johnny as he slept, as though he couldn't get close enough to satisfy himself, to the forlorn, rather lovesick look on his face while he watched Johnny dance with Crystal.

"I dunno," he said. "I guess. Maybe. Pete's a bit oblivious about that stuff, though." His mouth twisted. "Hey, you think it has to do with the promise he made Gwen?" 

MJ blinked at him. "What promise?" she asked.

Oh shit. Johnny'd just assumed Peter'd told her. He told her practically everything. 

"Oh," Johnny said, flustered. "I thought he'd told you."

"No," MJ said, shaking her head. "He hasn't. What promise?" she repeated.

"I don't know if I should tell you," he said indecisively. "Pete might get pissed."

"Pete's already pissed and threatening never to talk to you again," she said wryly. "He can hardly get any more pissed than he is now."

"I guess," Johnny said. "Just doesn't feel right."

"If you don't tell me," she said, "I'll just get it out of him anyhow."

"Yes," Johnny said. "Do that. And then yell at him for me, MJ. Not that that really worked out all that great for me."

" _Oh_ ," MJ said, like it was just dawning on her. "Is _that_ what you two argued about?"

Johnny nodded. "Yep," he said. "Just to warn you, he's still a little sensitive about it. And, erm, Gwen, you know."

MJ let out a long exhale and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Oh god," she groaned. "Please tell me you didn't insult Gwen."

"I didn't _insult_ her," Johnny countered defensively. "I just pointed out that she was dead, which she is, and Pete's not, which he isn't, so his promise is stupid. You'll get what I mean when you find out what the promise is."

"That _was_ a little harsh," MJ said. "I can see why he was so angry at you."

Johnny canted his head. "Are you? I know you were friends with her too."

"No," MJ sighed. "I just want to fix this whole thing and get things back to normal."

"Yeah," Johnny said. "I would also like that."

"You have to make him talk to you," she said. "However you can."

"So, what you're saying," Johnny said, only somewhat seriously, "is that I have to catch myself a spider."

MJ snorted. "Nice use of the spider imagery," she said. "But yeah, that is basically what I'm saying."

"Thanks," he shrugged. He squinted at her. "Now how do I do that? Pete's smart and wily. He hasn't survived this long in the superhero business by being an idiot. He won't be easy to trick."

"You are an expert prankster," MJ pointed out. "Use your pranking expertise to trick him into it."

"It's hard to trick someone into something when they don't even want to talk to you," Johnny said.

"I have faith in you," MJ said. "You can do this."

"I guess," Johnny said ambivalently. "Maybe Sue and Reed and Ben can help. They're better at planning stuff like this."

"If you get Dr. Richards to help," MJ said, "I'm sure you'll be all set. He's pretty smart, by all accounts. Just...before you do anything, let me try talking to him one more time, please?"

Johnny nodded. "Of course, princess."

She patted his arm reassuringly. "Just calm down, Johnny. Everything's going to work out fine."

"Oh god," Johnny groaned. "First rule of the superhero business. Do not ever say that, or everything will go as wrong as it possibly can."

"Really?" MJ asked skeptically. 

Johnny held up his hand. "Swear. Explosions, alien invasions, ancient gods trying to take over the planet, bad stuff happens when you say that."

"Well," she said, tossing her hair over her shoulder defiantly. "This isn't a superhero thing. It's a private thing. We'll be fine."

"There you go again," Johnny hissed. "You're jinxing everything! _Stop saying that_."

She looked up, sighed, and held up her hands to signal her surrender. "Okay, okay," she said. "You win. I'll stop saying everything's going to be okay."

Johnny shook his head at her. "Amateur," he muttered sourly.


	8. One Day I'll Fly Away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finished it a little early, so I thought I'd post it now.
> 
> Enjoy! 
> 
> (And also...uh, sorry? And also, things will totally get better between them soon, I promise. I am actually writing that chapter now...)

"Hey, Webhead!" Johnny shouted as he hovered high above the fight that was raging below. "We need to talk! Have you not been getting any of my messages? I've been looking for you!"

He really _had_ been flying around the city looking for Peter, which he'd decided sounded like a good idea after seeing a news report saying that Spider-Man'd been sighted near Times Square about an hour ago. Disappointingly, he'd narrowly missed him, showing up just after Spidey'd left the scene. 

But now here Peter was, taking down a bad guy who looked like he was made out of asphalt, and was monologuing what sounded very much like an incredibly boring origin story, and, ugh, why were Peter's bad guys always so  _weird_ and totally _lame_?

Still, this was kind of perfect, Johnny thought gleefully. Peter could hardly run away in the middle of a fight, after all. Running away from fights like a scared, screaming little kid was pretty frowned upon in the superhero community, and it would seriously injure Peter's already kinda awful reputation.

"Go away, Johnny!" Peter yelled back as he ducked the bad guy's massive fists. "I'm a little busy here, if you haven't noticed!"

"You're _always_ busy these days!" Johnny said heatedly. "A guy might get the idea that you maybe don't want to talk to him."

"A guy might maybe be right!" Peter answered, tilting his head up, probably to scowl at Johnny, forgetting the fact that he was wearing a mask and Johnny couldn't actually _see_  said scowl.

Instead, he just wound up getting the wind knocked out of him by the very ranty bad guy, who was so completely starting to get on Johnny's nerves.

"Look, just get out of the way!" Johnny shouted, waving Peter away. "Let me handle this! I can't blast him if you're so close!"

"I can stop him myself!" Peter bellowed, still dodging the bad guy's fists and ignoring his irritating monologue. "I've been doing this for _years_ without your help! I don't need it now! I'll figure something out, I always do!"

Peter was so distracted by ranting at Johnny (apparently the rantiness was contagious) that the bad guy finally managed to really land a punch, and Peter got knocked a couple of yards away, skittering against the asphalt when he landed.

Johnny winced. "Oooh," he muttered under his breath. "That one musta hurt." Then, more loudly, cupping his hands around his mouth so Peter could hear, he shouted, "Sorry!" 

Still, at least Peter was far enough away for Johnny to take care of the bad guy, Human Torch-style.

"That's right!" the bad guy was shouting at Peter in a deep gravelly voice, back carelessly turned to Johnny. Or maybe he was so thick-headed he really _hadn't_ noticed Johnny had shown up? "Run, you fool! Street never stops!"

Huh. So  _that_  was his name.

"Hey, dumbass!" Johnny yelled at him. He turned to look up at Johnny, as though only just registering his presence, glowing yellow eyes widening with terror when he realized who it was.

"Street is a terrible bad guy name," Johnny taunted. "What's next, a bad guy named Highway? I'm quaking in my stylish boots."

Street's mouth dropped open indignantly.

Johnny took that as his cue to unceremoniously blast Street with as much heat as he could muster. 

When he was done, Street was nothing but a puddle of (kinda livid, perplexingly still very ranty) goo.

Johnny pumped both fists in the air, and turned to find Peter, who was helping a totally hot babe gather up all of the items that had gone flying from her purse when she'd attempted to flee from Peter's battle with Street. "And  _that_  is how it's done, Webhead," he crowed victoriously, as he landed a few feet away and flamed off.

"Yeah," Spidey said indifferently, snagging the girl's lipstick where it had rolled under a car. Which he did by lifting up the car with one hand, the show-off. "Sure."

He handed it to the woman, who stuffed it in her purse and scurried off without so much as a thank you.

"You're welcome!" Peter shouted after her. "A thank you every now and again would be nice," Johnny could hear him muttering to himself bitterly. "Not every time, just _occasionally_."

Johnny lowered his arms. Right. He and Pete were angry at each other. In the joy of his awesome victory he'd nearly forgotten about it.

Normally, Peter would bicker with him for hours after a streetfight like this, and they'd both love every second of it. It would invariably end with them watching some cheesy sci-fi flick and eating greasy pizza.

It would've been awesome.

"We need to talk," Johnny announced firmly. Hey, maybe if he pulled this off, they could still get around to watching that cheesy movie.

"Eh," Peter said, not even bothering to look at Johnny. "I don't feel like playing with you today, kid. Too busy." He waved a hand. "Take a hike. Find somebody else to annoy."

Johnny's fists clenched. That movie was looking increasingly unlikely. "You're being a jerk," he hissed. "Stop being a jerk. And definitely stop calling me kid, it's just weird. You're just a few months older than me. Can you just get over whatever it is that's bugging you and talk to me like a normal person for two seconds?"

"I'm not being a jerk," Peter said levelly. "I just don't feel like arguing with you. Take a hint, Flamebrain, and fly away."

"Not until you agree to talk to me," Johnny insisted. He was so very tired of arguing with Peter. Couldn't things just go back to how they were? Johnny silently pining for Peter, Peter totally (or perhaps willfully) oblivious about it?

Peter whirled around. Johnny couldn't see his face because of his Spidey mask, but he had the impression that Peter was probably scowling under there. "Go away, stop bothering me,  _I don't want to talk to you_!" he said hotly. "Stop following me around like a lost puppy dog! It's  _pathetic_. Get a life."

" _Screw_  you!" Johnny hollered, outraged.

Somewhere deep down, Johnny was secretly glad that he'd at least gotten Peter to stop acting like none of this was getting to him. 

"You wish!" Peter retorted. "But it isn't happening, so give it up already!"

"You think that's what this is about?" Johnny said, outraged. "You think this is about something as stupid as me wanting to have sex with you? This is about our _friendship_. Which is important to me, and has _nothing_ to do with whether or not I want to get into your pants!" His eyes flicked down to Peter's legs. "Erm. Tights."

"Well," Peter ground out, tilting his chin up, "it's not important to me."

Johnny was about 99% positive that Peter was just saying that to be an asshole. Well, congratulations, it was working, because how the hell could Peter even _say_ that?! After _years_ of being friends, and all of the adventures they'd had together, in costume and out? "I don't believe that," Johnny said. "Not for a second."

"That means you're more of an idiot than I thought you were," Peter replied testily.

"Do me a favor, yeah?" Johnny snapped. "Go to hell."

"If I did," Peter answered, "it wouldn't do any good. You'd probably just come looking for me."

"Hell's not a very nice place," Johnny said. "Believe me, I've been. You wouldn't like it, and I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy. Which is currently you, so."

"That is _not_ the point I was making, moron!" Peter shouted. "I was pointing out how deeply  _annoying_ it is that you keep stalking me. Please stop."

"You want me to stop following you?" Johnny said, unable to stop a note of bitterness from entering his voice. "Fine, I will. Sorry, I didn't realize my attempts to be your friend were bothering you. So I'll stop. I'll get out of your life. If that's really what you want."

Johnny was just saying that because he was pretty sure that Peter, when faced with the very real possibility of a life without Johnny, would back down. No one would prefer a life without Johnny's awesomeness, but especially not Peter.

So he was calling Peter's bluff, because Peter _was_ bluffing, he just had to be. There was no way Peter'd really go through with this. That much of an idiot he couldn't be.

"Yes," Peter said, much to Johnny's great shock, not giving Johnny an inch. "Do it. Just fly away, and don't look back."

Okay, so Johnny should maybe reevaluate how stupid Peter could be. Duly noted.

Still, Johnny tried hard not to let it show on his face, how devastating he found the cool indifference of Peter's voice and the fact that Peter seemed to be determined to go through with this...this farce.

Had he never cared about Johnny at all? That wasn't possible. Johnny shoved the thought away without even seriously stopping to consider it. Peter might be trying to pretend it was true, but Johnny knew it wasn't. And you didn't stop caring about someone overnight.

He was just hurt or angry or scared about some indeterminate something, and he was taking it out on Johnny.

Or maybe Johnny was the thing he was scared of. That possibility had been floated by MJ too.

"Well, fine," Johnny said, trying his best to sound angry instead of crestfallen. "Bye forever then."

"Okay, bye," Peter said irritably. 

Johnny flexed his hands open and shut. He couldn't seem to make himself leave. If he left, then this—him and Peter—might really be over. He didn't want to have to face that, or even believe it was possible.

He kept expecting Peter to break down and tell him not to go.

"Are you going or aren't you?" Peter asked impatiently.

"You're really just going to let this happen?" Johnny asked disbelievingly.

"Why would I stop it?" Peter said curtly. "This is exactly what I want."

"I don't believe that," Johnny said, and he didn't. "I can't believe that. Something else is going on that you aren't telling me. Is someone making you do this? You can just talk to me about it. You don't have to do this."

Johnny couldn't fail to note the way Peter's body grew taut as wire. "Nothing else is going on," he said rapidly. "There are no other reasons."

Luckily for Johnny, Peter'd never been that great at lying.

"But there are," Johnny said, canting his head. "I can tell you're lying. MJ thinks so too. We've both got your number, you know. We both know exactly what you're doing and why. She's not stupid, and neither am I."

Okay, so Johnny was bluffing a little, but Peter didn't need to know that.

"You could've fooled me," Peter retorted. "And I don't know what you mean. There are no secret reasons why I'm doing this. I just decided that I don't like you. Again. Clearly when I decided to befriend you, I was temporarily insane."

"Bullshit," Johnny said. "I think the problem is that you realized you like me a little _too_ much."

"Don't make me laugh, Storm," Peter said stiffly. "Are you really so egotistical that you can't fathom that someone wouldn't like you back?"

"No, but  _I know you_ ," Johnny said, voice confident and unwavering. "Don't forget that I know you. _Really_ know you. You're doing this because you think you're being noble. You think you're going to keep your promise to Gwen easier like this, and you think you're keeping me from getting hurt because of you. But the way I see it, Pete, the only person who keeps hurting me is _you_."

"So just _go away_ ," Peter said, and this time he sounded almost pleading, almost desperate. " _Stop talking to me_. Then I can't hurt you anymore. Problem solved."

"Or you could stop being an idiot and just _talk to me_ about whatever's going on," Johnny said, exasperated, throwing up his hands. "C'mon, Pete, what the hell happened to set you off like this? _Something_ musta happened."

"Nothing happened," Peter said sharply. "C'mon, this is over, just face it."

"This _isn't_ over," Johnny retorted vehemently. "Don't think for one second that it is."

"You think what you want," Peter said. "But it is, Torchy." 

"You're being a real jerk about this, you know," Johnny informed him. 

"Yeah," Peter said. "I know. So why exactly are you still talking to me?"

Johnny shifted his weight back and forth on his feet. "I don't know. I really don't know why I'm bothering with you at all, if you're just going to be like this."

"So don't," Peter said simply, and that was it. Friendship over. For now, at least because no way was Johnny letting this  actually be over.

Johnny's mouth snapped shut, and he just stood there, staring at Peter, with no idea what to do next.

Of _course_ he knew why he was bothering with Peter. Of course he knew that he couldn't ever give up on Peter, not even after this. 

Peter might be acting like a jerk right now, but he wasn't, he really wasn't. Normally, he was sweet and funny and wonderful, and he was Johnny's very best friend.

And then, of course, there was the perhaps more relevant fact that Johnny was so in love with Peter he could hardly see straight. 

There was no way he would ever let Peter go without one hell of a fight. Even now, even staring wordlessly into Peter's unreadable red-and-blue mask, he just... _couldn't go._ Couldn't give up, couldn't leave. 

This was Peter Parker. The guy who'd been his stalwart friend through some of the worst (and best) days of his life.

Johnny had no idea how he could ever even _begin_ to go on with his life without Peter. What the hell was he going to  _do_  with himself, without Peter around, without Peter to talk to, Peter to goof off with, Peter to yearn for?

He'd spiraled into a fairly terrible depression when he'd had to face the prospect of just a few _days_ without Peter. But the rest of his life? That made Johnny feel something akin to panic.

He couldn't let that happen, but right now, he didn't know what else to try. 

He didn't want this to be the last conversation they ever had, not after everything they'd meant to each other. There was no damn way it was going to be.

Whatever was going on with Peter, he'd get over it. Johnny was about as sure of that as he was about anything. Reed was smart, Sue was a total badass, Benjy loved to clobber things, and he and Peter were destined to be in each other's lives forever.

Their destinies had already been intertwined for so long, Johnny just didn't believe that the future could be any different.

If he could just get Peter to open up, to talk to him like he used to, he could fix this now, he knew he could, and save himself unnecessary weeks or months of pain and worry. Whatever stupid reason Peter had for doing this, whether it was what MJ had said or something else, Johnny knew he could talk him out of it if Peter'd just stop being an idiot and give him half a chance. 

But he suspected that Peter knew that too, and he was deliberately making it as impossible as he could for Johnny to get through to him.

"Whatever's going on with you," Johnny found himself saying, "when you finally work through it, find me. I've already forgiven you for this. And if you ever need help, buddy, don't hesitate to ask. I will always be there for you, and it doesn't matter how angry we are with each other. Just...figure this out soon, yeah? I'll be seeing you again, Webhead. You can count on that."

Johnny flamed on all at once, a bit more forcefully than he'd intended, and Peter flinched back from the waves of heat and light. Johnny took off instantly, and flew until he was high above the skyscrapers.

He couldn't keep himself from glancing back down before he was too far out of sight. 

He found, much to his surprise, that Peter hadn't moved. He was staring up at Johnny, hugging his arms to his chest, head tilted up, watching Johnny fly away. 

Johnny got the feeling he didn't want Johnny to go either, not really. There was something almost longing, and definitely lonely, about the way he was standing there, eyes fixed unwaveringly on Johnny.

But no, Johnny was just projecting. Wishful thinking.

Johnny found himself wishing, nevertheless, that he could see Peter's face. If he could stare into the depths of those hazel eyes, he'd know for certain. They couldn't hide what Peter really felt, no matter how cagey Peter thought he was being.

Johnny hovered there, flames rippling across his body, staring down at Peter indecisively. Should he stay and try one last time, or should he give up and go?

He knew what he wanted. Knew what every fiber of his being was screaming at him to do. Fly down there and refuse to go away, refuse to give up, until Peter told him what was wrong, until Peter forgave him for whatever he'd done, and everything was alright again.

But there was a small voice in the back of his mind telling him not to. Peter'd made it very clear that he didn't want Johnny around right now, and Johnny knew he should respect that.

For now, at least, until Peter cooled down, until MJ or maybe Mrs. Parker talked him down, Johnny was going to have to stay away, no matter how difficult he found it.

He'd tried to make things right. Tried and failed.

Maybe he'd get lucky. Maybe Peter would come to regret this, come to understand how much he and Johnny mattered to each other. Maybe Johnny just had to wait. 

But there was yet another part of him that thought... _no._ That was too pathetic. Johnny couldn't keep doing this. Couldn't keep putting his life on hold indefinitely on the off chance Peter might someday deign to glance his way. 

He'd told Peter that Peter was stupid for pining over Gwen, when he could never have her. Well, Johnny might just have to face the possibility that he and Peter really were just as impossible. Maybe Peter was too mired down in a past to which he could never return to ever find it in himself to give Johnny a chance. Maybe all of the pain and loneliness and heartbreak Peter'd been through in his short but tragic life had left him too messed up, too broken, to ever be able to love Johnny back.

Maybe this had all been a silly daydream of Johnny's. A fantasy that could never become a reality, no matter how desperately he wanted it to. Maybe he'd never get the chance to be with Peter at all.

Johnny's heart sank through the pavement as he realized the logical conclusion to all of this. He was through with Peter, for now, at least, until he stopped being so hung up on him. _Had_ to be, for the sake of his own emotional well-being.

Johnny clenched his fists and forced himself to turn around and fly off towards the Baxter Building and his sister's comforting arms.

This time he didn't allow himself to look back.

* * *

"Johnny!" Sue said, smiling up at him brightly as he strode into their living quarters.

Sue was crouching on the floor in the middle of the living room, clutching a giggling Franklin to her chest. Reed was positioned two or three feet away, still in his long white lab coat, which meant that he must've left his lab in a hurry for whatever this was. 

Ben was sitting between them, still holding up his phone as though he'd just been taking photos of something.

"Johnny!" Reed said happily, waving a hand at Johnny. "Come, join us."

"Yeah, squirt," Ben said, grinning at Johnny. "Y'r not gonna wanna miss this."

Franklin gurgled at him happily. Even _he_ seemed oddly giggly. Especially for what was normally his much-loathed bath time.

They all beamed at him expectantly. Johnny didn't quite know how to react.

"Erm," he said. "What's going on?"

"Franklin just took his first steps!" Sue said excitedly. "Wait, I texted you photos and a video. Didn't you see them?"

"Oh," Johnny said. "No. Um. I've been. Busy." Johnny knew it was a big deal, knew he should care about it—Franklin was his nephew after all—knew that he normally would be overjoyed about this. So he tried to smile—rather unsuccessfully, he thought—and said, as enthusiastically as he could, "But that's awesome, sis! I'm proud of the little guy."

Sue's smile faltered. "Johnny?" she said, and now she was frowning a little, and Johnny felt like dirt, because he'd taken a moment in her life that should have been purely joyous, her first child taking his first steps, and tainted it with his stupid problems. "Are you alright?"

Johnny couldn't ruin it completely for her. Let her enjoy her son's first steps. He'd be fine for a few hours. He could tell her what was going on later.

He tried to smile again. "Fine, sis," he said. "I've just got a bit of a headache. Think I'll go lie down for a bit."

Her eyes narrowed a smidge, as though she didn't entirely believe him. "Okay, little brother," she said, a hint of worry in her voice. "I'll be up to check on you later."

Johnny nodded, and fled to the solitude of his bedroom.

* * *

A while later, and Johnny didn't know exactly how long it had been, there was a rap at the door. Johnny'd been waiting in bed tensely for the last...however long it'd been, waiting for Sue to come up and talk to him.

"Come in," Johnny said, twisting in his bed to glance at the door. That knock had been too forceful to be from Sue's tiny hand.

It all made sense when Ben opened the door. "You okay, squirt? Y'r sister's worried. Sent me up to check on ya."

Johnny sat up and stared down at his hands glumly, edges of his mouth pulling downwards. "Peter and I are officially over."

"I didn't know you'd ever started," Ben said, leaning in a doorway that was much too small for him. "Why didn't ya tell me ya were datin' the kid?"

"We _didn't_ start," Johnny sniffled. "I mean he doesn't want to be my friend anymore." He scrubbed at his right eye. Damn thing kept prickling at him. "He's a jerk." He swallowed thickly. "I dunno. Maybe he's right. Maybe I'm an idiot for ever thinking this would ever work out okay."

"Want me to clobber him for ya?" Ben offered. "Jus' say the word."

"No," Johnny said, after considering it for a beat. "Sue would yell at us."

Ben just looked at Johnny for awhile, then sighed and walked around the bed to him. He put a rough, heavy hand on Johnny's shoulder, the rocky texture familiar and comforting for Johnny. 

Johnny leaned into his touch instinctively.

"Sorry, squirt," Ben said compassionately. "I know how much the kid meant to you."

Johnny's eyes fell closed. "No," he said miserably. "You really don't."

Ben's grip tightened on Johnny's shoulder. He was quiet for a long while after that. Johnny didn't say anything either. He didn't know what there was _to_ say.

Without warning, Ben scooped Johnny out of bed with one arm. Johnny nearly had a heart attack at the abrupt movement.

"What are you _doing_ , Benjy?" Johnny said loudly, before finding himself pressed against Ben's chest.

Oh. It was a hug. Well, okay then.

Johnny hesitated for a second, and then wrapped his arms tentatively around Ben's enormous neck.

"You tell anyone about this," Ben said grumpily, the deep rumble of his voice vibrating through Johnny's comparatively small frame. "I'll deny it."

"No one'd believe you," Johnny said, and pressed his face against Ben's neck. "Everyone knows you're not-so-secretly an old softie."

Ben harrumphed at that. "That's only cause ya go around tellin' everyone that. Some secretkeeper you are."

"They all know already, Benjy," Johnny chided. "Don't be a drama queen."

"Sez the king o' the drama queens," Ben shot back.

"You're just jealous 'cause I'm more fabulous than you are," Johnny said.

"You keep tellin' yerself that, Bichead," Ben retorted. "Until ya believe it."

It was actually kind of comforting, Johnny found, bantering with Benjy.

"Whaddya need that kid for anyways?" Ben ventured eventually. "You've got the Ever-Lovin', Blue-eyed Thing ta be yer best pal already. 'S better than any snot-nosed kid."

"Shut up, you jerk," Johnny said, squeezing his eyes shut, and gripping Ben's neck more tightly. "You're going to make me start bawlin' all over you, and then what'll you do?"

"Take pictures and blackmail ya with 'em later?" Ben suggested. 

Johnny snorted. "Jerk."

"Runt."

"I am not a runt," Johnny protested. "I'm normal-sized for a guy my age. You're just a giant bouldery Thing. You're biased." 

"Pint-sized version of a guy yer age, mebbe," Ben teased. 

Johnny huffed a laugh into Ben's shoulder. "I thought you were trying to make me feel better," he reminded Ben. "Insulting me is not the way to do it."

"Got ya ta laugh, didn't I?" Ben countered.

Johnny managed to smile weakly at Ben for that one. 

Ben set him back down on his bed gingerly. "I'm makin' steaks," he said. "Come have some."

Johnny shook his head, and lay down, back to Ben, hiding his face in his pillow. "Not hungry."

He didn't feel as though he had a firm enough grasp on his emotions to deal with all of them being nice to him all evening. It would be ridiculously embarrassing if he really did break down and cry in front of Reed and Ben. 

Ben'd _never_ let him live it down, and he really might take pictures. He _had_ been known to take embarrassing pictures of Johnny and post them on his Instagram, after all.

Man, did Johnny ever regret teaching him how to use Instagram.

In retrospect, it might be one of the worst decisions he'd ever made, right along with those skin-tight, leopard-print pants he'd bought when he was sixteen, and that girl he'd dated for five minutes who kept waking him up at (urgh) seven a.m. every morning, until Johnny'd seriously considered strangling her.

Ben patted his shoulder again. "Susie'll be up to talk to you later, I'm sure."

Johnny snorted. "Yeah," he called over his shoulder. "You can bet on it."

"Things'll get better, kid," Ben said from the doorway. "Everythin' always does. Take it from me."

* * *

Johnny shut his eyes and allowed his mind to wander. He wasn't entirely certain at what nebulous point the daydreams of his waking mind became the dreams of sleep, but he woke to the feel of a cool, soft hand stroking lovingly along his cheek. Johnny recognized the touch instantly. 

He opened his eyes and looked up into Sue's worried face. "How are you holding up, baby brother?" she asked. 

"Ben told you what happened," Johnny said sleepily. "That blabbermouth."

Sue nodded. "He was worried about you. You didn't answer my question, baby brother."

Johnny's eyes fell closed. "I'm...not great, sis."

Sue stroked her hand through his hair the way she always did when he needed to be comforted. It was surprising, how it immediately made Johnny feel so much better, almost like magic. His big sister was here, and she'd fix everything, just like always. "What happened?"

"Pete's...going through something. Or something happened. I don't know, sis, I really don't. But whatever his reasons are, he decided that he can't be my friend anymore, and...I don't know how to fix it, sis," he said miserably. He looked at her pleadingly. "C'mon, you were always good at this stuff. The serious relationship stuff, I mean. What do I do?"

"I don't think there's anything you _can_ do right now, I'm afraid," Sue said apologetically. "Apart from giving him space and hoping he comes back to you someday."

Johnny sat up and dragged a hand over his face. "Great," he said bitterly, the brief comfort he'd felt at her presence evaporating. "Very helpful, Sue."

"Look, little brother, I know you wish this was one of those problems you could solve just by finding the right person to punch. But not every problem has such a simple solution. Some problems don't have any solution at all," she said. "You might need to prepare yourself for that too."

" _No_!" Johnny said vehemently, scrambling to his feet. " _No_. Peter wouldn't do that to me. We've been way too close for way too long. Mean too much to each other. Pete wouldn't just...just _leave_ me like that. He'll be back. I know it. I just have to wait."

Sue watched him quietly from the bed, and then shut her eyes and sighed. "Okay," she said, rising to her feet and putting her hands on his shoulders. "Okay, little brother. I'm sure you're right. He'll be back, just like you say."

"You're just saying that because you think it's what I want to hear!" Johnny bellowed, jerking out of her grasp. "Don't _do_ that! I _hate_ it when you do that!"

Sue held her hands up to placate him. "Johnny, calm down," she said, as soothingly as she could. "Everything's going to be fine, okay? Everything's going to work out."

"No, it _won't_!" he shouted angrily. "Peter's gone, how is anything going to be okay when Peter doesn't want to talk to me?"

"You've still got all of us to talk to," Sue pointed out. "If that counts for anything."

Johnny put a shaky hand to his face. "Yeah," he said weakly, deflating a little. "Of course that counts."

"I know it does," Sue said.

"I don't know," Johnny said despairingly. "I don't know. Maybe it is better this way. Maybe it'll give me the chance to get over him. He's never going to like me back enough to date me, is he, Sue?"

"Look, sweetie, why don't you come downstairs with all of us?" Sue suggested, deftly avoiding answering his question, and now she sounded really worried, even though she was trying to hide it. "I think it'd make you feel better to be around your family."

"No," Johnny said wearily. "I don't feel like talking to anyone right now."

"You won't need to," she said. "We can tell Ben and Reed not to say anything. You can just...sit with us."

"Yeah," Johnny said flatly. "Cause Ben's going to pay attention to you."

"I can make him pay attention to me," she said confidently. "Don't you worry."

"No," Johnny said, eyes drifting across the open window, and lighting up at the idea that sprang into his mind. "I think...I think I wanna go flying." 

He pushed past her and started yanking the window open wider.

"Now, Johnny, you're very upset," Sue replied warily. "I don't think that's wise. Just...come downstairs. Please?"

"Where you can keep an eye on me, you mean," Johnny scoffed. "I don't feel like being looked after right now, sis. I need to let off some steam. And flying's just the thing to let me do it."

He leapt up recklessly onto the windowsill, and gazed out at glory and beauty of the Manhattan skyline at sunset as it stretched out beneath him. The brick and mortar and steel of the majestic skyscrapers, bathed in the dusky hues of the sun, stood out vividly against a stunning sky composed of a mixture of violets, magentas, burnt oranges, and brilliant yellows.

Johnny had an unquenchable urge to speed towards that mess of color, chase it across the horizon, across the broad expanse of the world, as far as his flames would take him. He longed to feel the wind whipping through fiery hair, his flames blazing out behind him as he flew faster than he'd ever thought possible.

He smiled joyously at the setting sun.

Yeah. That felt like _exactly_ what he needed. Not wallowing alone in the dark.

He was Johnny Storm, he reminded himself. Wallowing alone in the dark over some boy (even if that boy just so happened to be Peter Parker) was not something he did. 

He was much too awesome for that.

"Sis," he said, looking back over his shoulder and smiling cockily at her, feeling more himself than he had in hours. "Trust me. I know what I'm doing." 

Sue said something in reply, probably something snarky about how if he did, it'd be the first time in his whole life, but Johnny didn't hear, because he spread his arms and took a single step forward, and then he was falling, falling, falling, hurtling unstoppably towards smog-stained concrete and shiny chrome cars.

Johnny didn't flame on right away. He simply enjoyed the way it felt to be entirely at the mercy of nature, of wind and gravity, and couldn't help but laugh loud and joyously at the delicious feeling.

"Johnny, flame on, _now_!" he heard Sue shout somewhere above him, and he did.

He sped off towards the setting sun, and for a few brief hours forgot all about Peter Parker and messy affairs of the heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...but first is gonna be the first Peter's POV chapter I've written in awhile!


	9. All I Have To Do Is Dream

That same night, Peter swung in through the darkened window of his apartment, expecting to find it exactly the way he'd left it--barren, lonely, unsettling.

Peter found it disquieting being there, in that apartment, where everything reminded him so much of Johnny, of Gwen, of Harry, of absent friends and lost loves.

Peter couldn't bear to stay there a moment longer than was absolutely necessary. 

It was too...devoid of life, of light, of companionship, and so very unlike the home he'd grown up in. It made Peter feel trapped and isolated and suffocated, like there was no way out, and even more afraid because maybe there really wasn't, not from the cage--of grief, of loneliness, of guilt--he was truly imprisoned in, the cage he carried within him, the cage that followed everywhere he went.

No, he preferred to be out swinging through the city, fighting crime and saving as many people as he could in the hopes that one day, perhaps, he might be forgiven for all of his sins, chief among them the fact that he had failed Gwen and Uncle Ben so spectacularly.

Perhaps someday he might find forgiveness, but at the moment that day seemed so very, _very_ far away. Peter despaired, sometimes, because it felt as though it would never come. Because perhaps his life would always be this. Perhaps he would always feel this mixture of rage, grief, guilt and self-loathing that filled his heart so completely it made it difficult to feel anything else.

That thought terrified Peter, more than he could say. He couldn't live an entire life feeling like this, but at the same time, he couldn't imagine feeling anything else. Not feeling this way would mean he was betraying Gwen.

It is possible for loved ones to live on after death, but only so long as they are remembered. Peter feared that the dulling of the pain of Gwen's death, the inexorable process of forgetting that had begun the day of her death would consign Gwen to oblivion, and Peter could _never_ allow that to happen.

But his reluctance seemed to have condemned him to a life spent alone, in the dark and silent spaces of the night.

Tonight he'd had more trouble with the prospect of his customary solitude than normal. He had been unable to face the thought of returning alone to this silent hellhole, so he'd kept webslinging hours longer than he normally would have, far past the point his body could handle.

He hadn't been able to face the thought of being alone, where he couldn't run away from the flurry of thoughts and self-doubts and recriminations that was sure to plague him the moment he stopped moving.

But eventually, his body's demands had grown too insistent, and so here he was, slumped against the windowsill, head bowed, hand pressed to his face, lost in the thoughts he hadn't been able to outrun after all.

Mostly he was haunted by the look on Johnny's face, crushed, hurt, reeling, when Peter'd told him they couldn't be friends anymore. He'd steeled himself for that beforehand, prepared himself mentally for it, told himself over and over again that he couldn't let it get to him. It had anyways, because he hadn't counted on the fact that this was _Johnny_ , and Peter hated seeing him in pain. 

In retrospect, Peter had to admit that ending things with Johnny had been one of the most difficult things he had ever had to do. Gazing into Johnny's wounded face, and saying those awful things to him...Peter had hated every second of it. Peter'd nearly stopped and apologized and begged Johnny's forgiveness a dozen times, but he'd stopped himself each time.

He truly had no idea where he'd found the strength to go through with it all. He'd spent _days_ avoiding Johnny because he'd been convinced he couldn't do it.

He'd only managed to get through it by repeating to himself, over and over again, that it was for Johnny's own good, and he'd been terrified the whole time that Johnny'd notice how badly his hands were shaking. Johnny hadn't, though. His eyes had remained fixed on Peter's face, almost as though he could see through the mask, see through Peter's act. Almost as though he knew exactly what Peter was doing, and why.

Peter hoped to god he'd done the right thing. Johnny'd be happier like this, without Peter weighing him down and darkening his life unnecessarily. Peter was certain of that.

Still, he couldn't keep from despising himself for what he'd done to Johnny, for the pain he'd surely caused him. But that was simply more proof of why Peter'd been right to do what he had. He was just...bad for Johnny. Bad for everyone, really. Perhaps he should go find a nice rock to live under, or flee into the wilderness and become a hermit.

He'd look good with a long scraggly beard, he decided.

A light clicked on in his empty apartment, and Peter nearly jumped out of his Spidey suit. 

"Jesus Christ!" he shouted, and then settled down a smidge when he realized that it was Mary Jane who was standing by the lamp, a not-very-pleased look on her face, arms folded across her chest.

The expression on her face was worryingly close to the look Aunt May always got when he was a kid and she caught him doing something he shouldn't be, like sneaking cookies off the tray when he thought she wasn't looking.

Come to think of it, she still, to this day, gave him that exact same look when she caught him doing it. 

"You almost gave me a _heart attack_!" he shouted angrily at MJ, yanking his mask off. "What the hell are you doing here, anyways? It's two o'clock in the morning!"

"I talked to Johnny last night," she said icily. "And he texted me again a few hours ago, all upset because you broke up with him.  _You told him to stay away_? What the hell is _wrong_ with you, Peter? Please explain that to me, because I really can't figure out what's going on in that screwed-up little brain of yours right now."

His eyes widened. Oh god.

"Look," Peter said rapidly, trying to rush past her to hide in the safety of his bedroom, "I'm exhausted and you must be too. How about we talk about this tomorrow?"

MJ snorted and blocked his path. "Nice try," she said flatly. "You aren't, by any chance, planning on avoiding me tomorrow and the next day and the next, exactly so we can't have this conversation, are you?"

"No," Peter said, but not very convincingly. "I wasn't planning that at all."

"I'm not an idiot," she reminded him coolly. "We're talking about this."

"There's nothing left to say," Peter tried. "I've already made up my mind."

"Well, it was a stupid decision, so we're talking about it until I'm satisfied with your answer," MJ said, reaching a hand out to snag Peter's elbow, and hauling him over to the couch.

Peter dragged his feet. "I really don't want to talk about this," he said.

"Yes, you do," MJ said, tugging harder. "You're miserable without Johnny, and now you've made sure that he's not in your life at all anymore. It was stupid. I bet you're just hoping I'll talk you out of it."

Peter opened his mouth to protest. " _No_ \--" was all he managed to get out.

"I know, I know," MJ said, raising a hand to quiet him. "You aren't miserable, and you don't miss him, and you don't want me to talk you out of it."

Peter nodded, and let her pull him down onto the couch. "Exactly," he said. It was a lie, and he knew it was a lie, and MJ knew it was a lie, but there was no way in hell she was going to get him to admit it.

MJ dragged a hand over her face and sighed wearily. "Fine," she said. "Be that way. So Johnny tells me you made some kind of promise to Gwen?"

"He _told_ you?!" Peter shouted heatedly, rising to his feet. _That_ he had _not_ been expecting. "That _bastard_! I told him that _in confidence_. Now I'm glad I friend broke-up with him."

MJ yanked him back down. "Settle down," she ordered calmly. "He let it slip that you'd made a promise, just because he'd assumed you'd already told me, and then clammed up about it as soon as he realized you hadn't. Why _didn't_ you tell me, might I add?"

"Because it's none of your business," Peter snapped. "It's between me and Gwendy, and no one else."

"And apparently Johnny now," MJ pointed out shrewdly, "since you told him about it. Why'd you feel the need to bring him in on it, I wonder?"

"Because I felt sorry for him," Peter said crossly. "Not because I thought it was his business."

"Gwen was my friend too, you know," MJ reminded him quietly. "You're not the only one who loved her. You aren't the only one who wants to honor her memory."

"I know that, MJ," Peter said, thrown. "I know how much you two cared about each other. Why are you bringing that up?"

MJ crossed her arms and settled back against the sofa. "Well, if you made Gwen some kind of promise that's keeping you from being happy," she replied levelly, "I just don't think it's what Gwen would've wanted. And as her best friend, I have the right to say that."

"It's not keeping me from being happy," Peter countered. "I'm doing exactly what I want to be doing. Staying faithful to her."

"Not moving on with your life, you mean," MJ retorted. "Is that what your promise was? To stay faithful, even though she's dead?"

Peter hesitated for a beat, debating over whether or not to fess up, but it was pointless to deny it, he supposed. He nodded wordlessly.

MJ pressed a hand to her forehead and sighed. "Yeah," she muttered, "I thought as much."

"Is it really that terrible?" Peter asked. "She gave up her life for me, MJ. And I was supposed to be with her for the rest of my life anyways. I was never supposed to have feelings for anyone else."

"But you _aren't_ with her anymore, are you?" MJ said, lowering her hand, and studying Peter with a keen, penetrating gaze that he found unsettling. "You're just alone and miserable. Gwen would never have wanted this for you. Not ever." She squinted at Peter. "And...you do have feelings for someone else, don't you? You feel something for Johnny, and that's what this whole 'We can't be friends anymore' thing is all about. Shove Johnny out of your life, the temptation to break your promise is gone. You don't have to feel guilty for wanting to be with someone who isn't Gwen."

Peter didn't even bother to pretend she was wrong. That had certainly factored into his decision, even if it hadn't been the sole reason. "It's easier this way," he said. "For him and for me."

That made MJ's brows furrow. "What do you mean?" she asked. "How is this easier for him?"

"I get to stay faithful to Gwen like I wanted," he replied. "Johnny...Johnny will move on eventually, and find somebody else. Someone who'll be better for him than I would. Someone who'll make him happy. Someone who won't keep dragging him down."

"And what about you?" MJ asked, frown deepening into something that was almost a scowl. "Do you not get to be happy?"

"That...doesn't--" Peter said, struggling to find the words, "it's not--it doesn't _matter_ anymore. Or it's not going to happen now, anyways. It couldn't. Even if I tried."

"Why not?" MJ queried.

"Because I don't deserve it," Peter wanted to say, but he knew the look she'd get on her face if he did, somewhere between pitying and indignant, so instead he replied by saying, "Gwen's dead. It would feel... _wrong_." That was true too, he found. "Being happy while she's...not here. When she can't be anymore."

"But it's _not_ wrong," MJ said. "It wouldn't _be_ wrong. Just because the girl you loved is dead, that doesn't mean your whole life has to stop. It doesn't work like that. You can't keep looking backwards all the time. You can't keep such a tight hold on the girl you loved and lost that you never move forward, never move on."

"Move on with Johnny, you mean," Peter said dryly.

"Not necessarily with Johnny," MJ disagreed. "I think you two would make a good couple, I think he'd make you happy, but I also think that if you really don't want to date him, you don't have to. Whatever makes you happy. I just think that, well, you should _try_ to be happy. I think it's what Gwen would've wanted. You happy, not miserable, like you are when..." She caught herself before she said it, but Peter knew what she was going to say anyways. Miserable the way he was when Johnny wasn't within ten feet of him. "I know you probably don't want to hear this, Peter, but as her best friend, I'm telling you...I think it's time to let her go."

"I _can't_ ," Peter said despairingly, fingers clenching around the mask that was hanging from his fingers. "I don't know _how_. I don't even know if I want to. How would I even _begin_ to do that?"

MJ reached out and gripped his shoulder, her hand a spot of steadying warmth and comfort. "I know it's hard," she said. "Believe me, it's been hard for me too. I still see her everywhere when I go out walking. Every blonde girl I see is Gwen, for a split second, before I realize it's not her, and then I remember why, and I almost start to cry." Her grip tightened around Peter's shoulder, her voice growing determined. "But we have to get through this, Tiger. And that isn't going to happen if we keep lingering in the past instead of deliberately moving forwards." Her fingers reached up to caress his hair. "We'll get through it together, Pete. You aren't doing this alone. You never have been. Some day you'll figure that out."

"Is it fair to Johnny to use him to get over Gwen, though?" Peter said. "I don't think it's fair to him. He doesn't deserve to be my rebound guy. He deserves somebody who really loves him. I don't know if I can feel like that about anyone anymore, MJ, not the way he wants me to, anyways. I think I only had the one, and I used it up on Gwen."

"That's just Hollywood mumbo-jumbo," MJ said dismissively. "It's not true that everyone only has one soulmate. People can fall in love a million times."

"Maybe they can," Peter conceded. "But I can't. Whatever it is that lets people feel that way about someone else, I lost it. Just about the time Gwen died."

"But you _do_ have some feelings for Johnny," MJ countered. "You said so yourself."

"But it's not like what I felt for Gwen," Peter retorted. "He just makes me feel... _stuff_. And yeah, some of those feelings are ones that I thought I'd never have again, but is that really enough to base a relationship off of? I don't know. Somehow, I doubt it." He dropped his head down and started rubbing the back of his neck. "I don't know," he confessed wearily. "He just kind of looks at me this certain way sometimes, like I'm the greatest guy on the planet or something, and he can't believe I'm real, and when he does, it just...makes me want to be whole again. Makes me wish that I could be, just for him. I wish I could be the guy he thinks I am." He shrugged gloomily. "But I can't be. No matter how hard I try, I can never be what he wants."

"Why not?" MJ said. "Have you _actually_ tried, or are you just assuming? Besides, you're not giving Johnny enough credit. I think he likes you fine the way you are."

"Doesn't work like that," Peter replied. "Once things are broken, they can't ever go back to how they were. Think of what a glass is like when it's broken. You can collect all of the shards and stick them together again with glue, make it look like it's still whole, but all of the fracture lines will still be there."

"Some people are pros and sticking glasses back together," MJ pointed out. "When my Aunt Anna does it, you'd hardly even know they were broken in the first place. You just need an expert."

"Just because they don't _look_ like they're broken," Peter replied, "that doesn't make them any less _actually_ broken."

"Well, you're a person, not a glass, Pete," MJ countered. "I don't think the same rules apply to the human psyche. I got over my father's death just fine."

"You hated your father," Peter shot back. "He was a dick. He was worse when he was alive."

"That's putting it mildly," MJ agreed. "But beside the point I'm making."

"Which would be?" Peter prodded. 

"It's like that Professor Xavier guy said when he guest-lectured in our psychology class," MJ said. "The human mind is a remarkably resilient thing. It can survive a great deal of trauma."

"There's a big difference between surviving something and being unaffected by it," Peter said. "Believe me."

"Maybe you should try talking to Professor X," MJ suggested. "You know him, right? Maybe he can help."

"I don't think that's a good idea," Peter hedged. "For one thing, Wolverine hates it when I swing over there. Sometimes I do it just to annoy him."

"Nice to see you're making friends," MJ said wryly.

Peter shrugged. "He must like me at least a little. When those AIM goons kidnapped me, he helped save me, and he didn't exactly have to." He frowned. "Hey, I never made fun of him for that. I'll put that on tomorrow's to-do list."

"You should add 'Apologize to Johnny on Bended Knee' to that list," MJ suggested.

Peter looked up at the ceiling, annoyed, and sighed. "I don't know," he said. "I think things are better the way they are. Maybe Johnny'll actually be happy this way."

"You know he thinks you're punishing him, don't you?" MJ asked. "He thinks he did something wrong. He thinks he's losing you like he lost Crystal, and you know how badly that hurt him. He's terrified and reeling...and you need to do something about it. You and Johnny have been friends for years. Don't you think you at least owe him a real break-up conversation? Set him straight on what's happening?"

"I don't want to talk to him again," Peter said instantly. "You tell him."

"No," MJ said firmly. "No way. I am not breaking up with him for you. Why don't you want to talk to him again?"

Peter crossed his arms stubbornly. "I just don't. It's not a good idea."

MJ let herself fall back against the couch and crossed her arms. "Is it because you're afraid of being tempted to jump his bones if you see him?" she asked flatly.

"No," Peter said. "I'm tired. Can I go to sleep now?"

MJ waved a hand at him imperiously. "I guess. It's too late to go home by myself now, so I'm sleeping in Harry's room."

"Fine," Peter said. "You do that."

MJ rose to her feet and kissed the top of Peter's head. "Night, Pete."

"Night, MJ," Peter said, watching her go.

Right before she walked into Harry's room, she turned and jabbed a finger at him. "Don't think this is over, Parker," she warned. "We're going to keep talking about this."

She slammed the door shut behind her. 

Peter scrubbed his hands over his face, feeling completely worn out, and muttered, "Great," very unenthusiastically. 

* * *

The crystalline waters of a lake, clear and still and beautiful, sparkling bright as a diamond in the sunlight.

The soft rustle of impossibly green grass, caressed by a delicate breeze, the scent of a sweet bouquet of flowers wafting along it. 

The sun's rays pressing soft kisses against his skin.

Peter breathed deep, eyes shut, face tilted up towards the sun, everything around him perfect, idyllic, peaceful.

Yes. Peter could find peace here.

Suddenly he was no longer alone.

A familiar pair of eyes, bluer than the sky that wheeled above them, turned towards him.

They were bright and sweet and so very beautiful, full of love and quiet adoration for him, for Peter, bafflingly always for Peter.

Peter's heart swelled as he thought for the first time, for the millionth time, that he could lose himself in those eyes for a moment, a day, a year, an eternity.

Then the light in those eyes grew dim, impossibly dim. Incomprehensibly dim.

They grew still and fixed and

Gwen fell backwards into the grass

but now it wasn't grass

and she was lying

Gwen was lying

there was blood

blood on concrete

the smell of copper in the air

and she was lying

her body was broken

he had seen it before

_he had seen this before_

Gwen had been here before

Gwen was

no no no no  _no_

she wasn't  _moving_

why wasn't she  _moving_?

The blood that pooled around her lifeless form turned black as tar as it oozed along the concrete, and it didn't _stop_ \--

It covered  _everything_.

It didn't  _stop_.

Peter tried to run, tried to scream, but to no avail. The darkness swallowed him too.

 _Everything_ was engulfed in darkness.

Peter couldn't _see_.

The whole of existence suffused by an impenetrable darkness that filled every corner of Peter's world.

It was in this darkness, that of sleep and death and memory, and only in this darkness, that Peter could ever hope to see those eyes shine once more.

Never again would he see them shine in the gold of the sun, or sparkle in the warmth and brightness of a summer's day.

Only in the darkness of the grave, in the blackness that lay behind his eyelids, could he ever find his way to them again.

They grew ever dimmer in his memory, with every cruel tick of the clock, with the setting of every sun.

Peter wanted to reach out both hands and grab hold of them, brand them into the flesh and sinews of his heart.

He couldn't forget her. He wouldn't forget.

But it was so dark here.

He was so very afraid.

He couldn't  _see_.

There was no light.

Peter couldn't _see_.

There was only darkness, darkness everywhere.

He couldn't _see_.

* * *

Peter jolted into consciousness with a loud gasp, panting wildly, heart racing, hazel eyes wide and full of terror.

It was dark. It was _too_ dark. He couldn't _see_.

He reached out with shaking fingers and tried to flip his lamp's switch on, desperate for any kind of light, anything but darkness.

There was a crash, the sound of glass shattering, and the lamp was nowhere to be found. Swallowed whole by the darkness.

Peter stumbled onto shaky feet, felt his way blindly towards the bathroom and the bright light he knew he would find there.

Harsh white light filled his vision in a burst of blinding brightness.

He breathed easier, sagging, relieved, against the doorway.

There was light still to be found. There was more than darkness left.

He staggered towards the sink, clutching at it with trembling hands.

Cool water splashing on his face, his head spinning.

He caught sight of his reflection in the fractured mirror over the sink.

Circles beneath his eyes, face pale and haggard.

He was falling apart. Sinking slowly back into the dark he'd thought he'd clawed his way out of.

None of Johnny's warmth and brightness left to cling to now.

His head hung low, eyes shut tight, hands clenched tightly around the cold and unforgiving white porcelain of the sink.

* * *

Peter was standing, paralyzed, in his living room and staring at the pitch-black doorway of his bedroom, as he had been for the past ten minutes. 

He shouldn't go back in there, he thought. If he did, he'd only dream of Gwen again, and he couldn't bear that, not right now.

He turned on his heel and headed for the kitchen.

When he was a kid, and he had nightmares, mostly of his parents being swallowed by some dark amorphous monster, Aunt May would ply him with warm milk and her best chocolate chip cookies, and Uncle Ben would sit by his bedside, stroking Peter's hair until he fell asleep, lulled by the knowledge that his uncle would keep the monsters away.

Well, Aunt May was far away (and probably sleeping), and Uncle Ben was...was not going to keep anyone safe anymore. Hadn't even been able to keep himself safe, it'd turned out.

Peter opened the doors to his small wooden cupboards, searching for the hot chocolate he was positive he'd seen Aunt May squirrel away somewhere the last time she'd been here.

He found some in the cupboard above the sink, and smiled when he saw that it was the same brand Aunt May'd been using for years. 

He pulled out a pot, poured some milk into it, and tried to remember how much of the chocolate Aunt May normally put in it.

He could feel himself begin to feel calmer the moment the delicious, sweet smell of the chocolate wafted into his nostrils. It smelled like Aunt May and the warmth and comfort of home. 

He sighed happily as he stirred, waiting for the milk to boil. 

Once it was ready, he poured it into the mug Aunt May had given him, the one that had been Uncle Ben's favorite, and that Peter only used on special occasions, because he was so paranoid he'd break it accidentally.

He was only using it now because he felt he needed it, this reminder of Uncle Ben and Aunt May, and those days when the prospect of rest of his life had stretched out before him, bright and shining and full of promise. That felt like such a very long time ago. Peter could hardly remember what it was like. 

He padded into the living room and flicked on the television. Sometimes, late at night, and yes, Peter knew this from experience, they'd show reruns of some of his favorite TV shows.

He stopped when he caught sight of Bugs Bunny, and flipped back to that channel. 

Uncle Ben had loved Bugs Bunny. He and Peter had sat around watching those old cartoons for hours, laughing themselves silly, when Peter'd been a kid. 

He smiled and sipped at his hot chocolate.

Yeah. He definitely was feeling better now.

His head whipped over when the door to Harry's room opened, and MJ emerged, yawning and rubbing at her eyes, and wearing a pair of Harry's old pajamas, adorned with green and white stripes, that were several sizes too big for her.

"Hey," she said, looking surprised and maybe a little put-out at being awake at, well, four in the morning. "Why are you up?"

Oh shit. Peter'd forgotten she was here. He'd probably woken her up with all of that noise he'd made in the kitchen. "Couldn't sleep," he said. "Did I wake you up? Sorry. I'm...not really used to having anyone else living here anymore."

That seemed to bring MJ up short. "Oh," she said, staring at him. "I hadn't ever really thought about that. You're here alone a lot, aren't you?"

Peter shrugged. "Yeah," he said indifferently. "I guess. It's not a big deal. You get used to it."

Lie. He had not gotten used to it at all. He had never been able to grow accustomed to this new eerie silence and solitude that filled the apartment. For him, it served merely as a stark reminder of the fact that Harry was no longer around. 

He missed having Harry there to keep him company, and watch awful movies with him, and drag him out to parties he didn't want to go to, and make gentle fun of Peter's occasional stodginess. 

"Still," she said, walking over to him and flopping down on the sofa, cheek pressed against his arm. "Can't be pleasant being alone all the time. This place used to be hoppin' when Harry lived here."

"Yeah," Peter said, staring down wistfully into his mug. "We had some really great times, me 'nd him." He shook his head fondly. "Good old Harry."

"Where do you suppose he's gotten to?" MJ said. 

"I...get the feeling he's here in the city someplace," Peter said evasively.

MJ frowned up at him. "You get the feeling?" she asked skeptically. "Is this a Spidey sense thing? If he's back, why hasn't he been here?"

Peter's eyes were fixed on his mug. 

"Unless...he _has_ been here?" she asked, sensing something was amiss.

"I don't want to talk about it," Peter told her. "He wasn't himself."

"He was _here?_!" she said hotly. "You _saw_ him? You saw him and you didn't tell _me_? Oh my god, Peter, I've been walking around wondering if he was alive or dead for _months_! You should have told me the _minute_ you saw him!"

"He's kind of--" Peter shook his head, at a loss for how to explain it. "If you see him, you'll be able to tell right away. He's...different. Not right. He was... _so angry_ with me. I didn't--I _couldn't_ talk about it. I'm sorry."

"Peter," she said. "I get that that must've hurt you, but you really need to tell me when Harry-related things like that happen. I have the right to know. Harry's my ex, after all."

Peter nodded. "Yeah, I know. I was going to tell you, I just." He swallowed thickly. "I don't. I don't like that he hates me now. At least he's still alive, right? I was starting to worry that he wasn't. Every time I called Oscorp, they'd give me some line about how he was vacationing somewhere, but they'd never give me a forwarding address, and his cell phone is out of commission, mysteriously."

"Did you ask where he's been?" she inquired.

"He didn't answer," Peter said. "Just kind of blew up at me, screamed we'd never really been friends, just roommates, and took off."

"Ouch," MJ said. She squinted at Peter. "Hey," she asked suspiciously, "Harry's mysterious reappearance and sudden decision to hate you wouldn't happen to have anything to do with what you're doing to Johnny, would it?"

"No," Peter replied, suddenly very interested in the television. "Not a thing."

"You know, Tiger," MJ said, "you _really_ suck at lying."

* * *

"You know, chocolate probably isn't the best thing to drink if you're trying to get to sleep," MJ ventured. "A cup of warm milk would be better."

Peter made a face. "Warm milk tastes gross, though."

"So gross," MJ agreed. "Does the trick, though."

"I don't want to," Peter said, a bit too vehemently.

"Drink the milk or sleep?" MJ said. "Are you afraid of the nightmares?"

"Maybe," Peter said noncommittally. "Nothing to be done about it."

MJ sighed. "Tell you what," she said, wrapping her arms around his right arm, and pressing her head against his shoulder, "I'll stay up and keep you company."

"Oh," Peter said weakly, trying to hide how touched he was. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it, Tiger," she said. "What are friends for?"

* * *

"Now I know where you get your lame sense of humor from," MJ said, smiling at the television.

"What are you talking about?" Peter said, frowning. "Bugs Bunny is _hilarious_."

"Sure," Mary Jane said. "If you're five."

"He is _timeless_ ," Peter hissed. "Heathen."

MJ snorted and pressed her cheek back against Peter's shoulder.

* * *

MJ woke the next morning to find herself sprawled against the couch, Peter snoring lightly against her stomach. She turned her head and found that the TV was still on, the late-night old-timey cartoons having been replaced by a  _Gravity Falls_ marathon. 

She let her head fall back and stared up at the ceiling, bright red hair pooling around her head like a halo, twisting her body to a different angle.

She kind of had to pee, a situation that was not made any better by the heavy head that was pressing against her abdomen. Peter was kind of pinning her down with his arm too. Still, she'd feel bad getting up. Peter didn't seem to sleep much, and depriving him of this opportunity seemed cruel.

She scrunched her eyes up and decided to wait until he woke up.

The things she did for Peter. He'd better hope she didn't get kidney damage or something from this, or she'd blame him until they were old and grey. 

Well, assuming he got ol--no, you know what, she wasn't even going to let herself think about that possibility. She tried never to think about that, not even when Peter limped into her apartment late at night, bloody and half-dead. 

Peter was going to live forever, and that was that.

* * *

It took about an hour for Peter to wake up. At that point, MJ had passed the point of agony. She dashed to the bathroom the minute his eyes fluttered open.

* * *

When she got back, Peter was in the kitchen, pouring himself a bowl of cereal.

"Hmph," she said, standing in the doorway with her arms crossed, watching him.

Peter whirled around. "What?" he said with a frown.

"At least when Johnny was around the breakfasts were better," she said wryly, looking pointedly at the bowl of Frosted Flakes he was pouring for himself.

Peter looked down at his cereal, and he was almost pouting. "I like this cereal," he said petulantly.

"I'm sure you do," MJ said placatingly. "It's practically mainlining sugar."

"Exactly," Peter said, shoving a large spoonful into his mouth. "It gives you an awesome sugar rush."

"Chocolate chip pancakes with chocolate syrup do too," MJ said, grinning playfully. "You know you love them when Johnny makes them."

"No," Peter said imperiously, waving his spoon in the air. "I hereby declare a ban on the name Jonathan Storm in this and any future conversations."

"You can declare all the bans you want, Tiger," MJ said with a roll of her eyes. "I'll do what I think is best. And right now, I think we are going to go out and eat brunch somewhere nice. It's Sunday, let's celebrate."

"Celebrate what?" Peter asked skeptically, still eating his cereal.

"That it isn't Monday?" MJ suggested.

"I'm supposed to go to Aunt May's later," Peter hedged. "I'm supposed to help her rearrange furniture or something."

"You'll have plenty of time to do that after we eat, and Aunt Anna invited me too," she said, right before yanking the cereal bowl out of his hands.

"Hey!" Peter shouted, hanging onto his spoon for dear life. "I was eating that!"

He tried to grab the bowl back, but to no avail. MJ ducked, and deftly avoided him, and successfully dumped his cereal into the sink.

"Aw," Peter said, staring forlornly at the cereal that was splattered in the sink. "I could've eaten that and _then_ eaten brunch. So much wasted sugar." He pointed at the sink and glared at MJ. "This should be a crime. Like wearing neon colors should be."

MJ rolled her eyes, gripped his shoulders, and began steering him towards his bedroom. "Go on, get dressed," she said. "And then we can get you all of the sugar you want. I'll see if I can find any of my leftover clothes in Harry's room."

* * *

"Peter," MJ said, fiddling with the straw to her orange juice, "I was thinking."

"Oh no," Peter said, setting down his coffee mug. "That always ends badly for me."

"Shut up," she said, lips twitching. "And that's only because you don't think."

"I think plenty," Peter said indignantly. 

"Maybe about, like, cellular matrices," MJ said. "You hardly ever stop to think about what you're doing with your life. Like, you know, what you're doing with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

"Voldemort?" Peter asked, confused. "Pretty sure I've never met him. Is he real now? I have a hard time keeping track. Especially since I found out Dracula's real."

"Whoa," MJ said, holding up a hand. "Stop everything. Dracula's real?"

Peter nodded eagerly. "Yes, and he's _scary,_ for the record."

MJ shook her head as if to clear it. "Okay," she muttered under her breath. "I will deal with that later." To Peter, she said, "No, I meant the fiery one."

"That counts as mentioning!" Peter said accusingly, jabbing a finger at her. "I said no mentioning."

She waved him off. "Whatever," she said indifferently. "His face is on the news all the time, so good luck avoiding all mention of him."

"I'll manage," Peter said. "It'll be fine. It's not like I'm going to curl up into a little ball every time someone says his name. We never even dated. Not that big a deal."

"You've been friends for _years_ ," MJ scoffed. "You've had a crush on him since _high school_. How is it not a big deal?"

"Yes, thank you for your input," Peter said rapidly. "Change the subject, please."

"I'm just saying, you can be his friend without dating him," MJ pointed out. "You've been friends without dating him for years."

"Things are _different_ now!" Peter said fiercely. "Now he _likes_ me."

"And you like him back," MJ said flatly. "Oh, how terrible and outrageous, and he absolutely deserves to be shunned for daring to have a crush on you."

"Whether or not I like him back doesn't matter because I don't want to date him," Peter ground out. "And that's that. End of subject."

"So don't date him," MJ said. "But why does that mean you can't be his friend, the same way you have been for years? He hasn't exactly been pushy about his feelings."

"Because our feelings might get in the way, because I'm afraid that I might...might get carried away when I'm with him. Do things I'll regret," Peter admitted. " _It's too risky_. I examined all of the factors and made the call I thought was right."

"You made the wrong call," MJ retorted. "Examine them again. You've both liked each other for awhile now, and you were dealing with being around him just fine, apart, you know, from the time you kissed him."

"And I didn't even know I _liked_ him when I did that!" Peter shouted. He buried his face in his hands and continued despairingly by saying, "Or maybe I did but I just didn't want to admit it to myself, I don't know. Maybe I just didn't want to have to deal with all of this. But after that wedding and everything that happened and the way I reacted to being around him and dancing with him and all of that...I couldn't hide from it anymore. If I hadn't done something, we'd probably be dating right now, and I'd hate myself for being so weak. I did what I had to when I sent him away, MJ. He'll be better off without me in his life."

"No, you didn't have to do that all, Pete," she replied sadly. "And it worries me that you think that he'd be better off without you. Are you going to decide that about me someday? Because I want to make one thing very clear to you, Peter: I get to decide who I do or don't want in my life. You don't get to decide what's best for me on your own. And you definitely don't get to decide what's best for Johnny. He's a big boy. He can figure it out for himself."

"He's a Flamebrain," Peter said. "He's lucky if he can remember how to spell his own name."

"Don't be ridiculous," MJ scoffed. "Johnny's smart when he wants to be, and you know it."

"I don't want to talk about it anymore," Peter said, picking up his menu again. "Change the subject." 

"You danced with Johnny at the wedding?" Mary Jane asked, a small smile playing around her lips.

Peter shot her a glare over the top of his menu. 

"What?" she said defensively. "It's a different subject."

"Drop it," Peter said, looking back at the menu. "Personally, I can't decide between banana pancakes or banana pecan pancakes. Or maybe the waffles."

"Johnny makes great banana pancakes, doesn't he?" MJ mused.

Peter squinted at her. "You know, it seems to me you're the one who keeps bringing him up. Are you sure you're not the one with the crush?"

MJ's eyes widened. "Oh my god," she whispered. "You know what? I think you're right!" She pressed a hand to her chest, right over her heart. "I mean, he's rich, a celebrity, and a pretty good guy." She gasped. "You know what? He's a total jackpot! I _should_ date him." She picked up her phone, fingers hovering over the keyboard. "I'm gonna text him. Ask him out on Saturday. Who knows, maybe I'll be Mrs. Johnny Storm by the end of the year. Bet I could swing it."

"This isn't funny," Peter said, glowering at MJ.

"Why shouldn't I ask him out?" MJ said. "It's not like you're going to date him. Besides, I thought you wanted him to date someone else. Wouldn't you rather it be me? At least you know I'll take good care of him and remember to feed him at appropriate intervals."

"MJ," Peter said, very quietly, not quite meeting her eyes. "Don't."

She set her phone down. "Why?" she prodded. "Would you be jealous?"

Peter raised his menu to hide his face, and didn't respond.

"You know that you're right, and if you keep this up long enough, he really will move on, don't you?" she continued. "How are you going to feel then, seeing him with someone else when it could've been--no, _should've_ been you?"

"I imagine I'm going to feel terrible," Peter said levelly from behind his menu. "But I'll live, and so will he. And that'll have to be enough for me."

MJ scrubbed her hands over her face. "Oh boy," she said. "You're just punishing yourself for Gwen, you know. You know this is all you punishing yourself for not saving her, don't you?"

"No," Peter said, putting his menu down and folding his arms across his chest. "This is me not wanting anybody else to get hurt because of me. My conscience would crumble under the weight of another life. I imagine you don't want that to happen either?"

"How do you know he'd die if you dated him?" she asked. "You can't know that for sure."

"Because that's what happens to people who get too close to me," Peter snapped. "Haven't you been paying attention?" 

"I'm still here," she said, spreading her hands. 

"For now," Peter retorted.

"Well, I'll just go ahead and take that risk," MJ said dryly. "Oh, and thank you so much for deigning to allow me to decide that for myself. Which is more than you're doing for some people I could mention."

"Things with Johnny are more complicated than things with you, and you know it," Peter countered. "And watch it, or maybe I'll decide to stop hanging out with you too."

It was an empty threat, and one he didn't mean at all, and he knew it, and so did MJ.

MJ snorted. "Peter, I really don't think you'd last a day without me." 

"I could so," he said petulantly, trying to keep up his bluff.

"Uh-huh," she said patronizingly, picking up her menu. "Everyone at this table believes that."

"I could," he insisted. 

"I believe you," she said, although she obviously didn't.

Peter picked up his coffee mug, sighed deeply, and downed the rest of the cup. 

* * *

Peter and MJ spent most of the rest of the day helping their aunts shove furniture back and forth around the house they were sharing.

And by helping, he meant that he and MJ insisted on moving everything themselves--which meant it was mostly him--while Aunt May and Aunt Anna changed their minds about the layout every two seconds.

The most frustrating part was that even though all he wanted was to work up a sweat, he couldn't, because Aunt May, who still thought of him as being as frail and sickly as he had been pre-spiderbite, kept insisting he sit and rest every fifteen minutes.

At least he got a tin of Aunt May's best cherry-cornmeal scones to take home with him. 

No, that was unfair. He loved going to see Aunt May, more than practically anything. Made him feel like just a normal kid for once, like someone who was loved and cared for, and those moments were rare these days. 

* * *

"Peter dear," Aunt May said as she was handing Peter an ice-cold lemonade, "is there something bothering you?"

Peter hesitated. He _wanted_ to confide in Aunt May, the way he used to when he was a kid and he would tell her everything, chattering on with her for hours while she did her chores and he trailed around after her.

He wanted to, but...things had changed. His life was no longer that innocent and uncomplicated.

Peter had too many secrets now, too many truths that had to remain unspoken.

He couldn't tell her the whole story, and he knew it, even though he also hated having to lie to her.

Lying seemed to be all he did these days.

"Does this have something to do with why your young man isn't here with you?" Aunt May asked knowingly.

"We just...had a little bit of an argument," Peter said with a casual shrug. "You shouldn't worry about it, Aunt May."

"Very well, dear," Aunt May said, patting his shoulder. "I trust that it will all blow over?"

Peter wasn't sure how to answer that. "Yeah," he said. "Sure."

Aunt May narrowed her eyes at him, as though she knew he wasn't being entirely truthful, but Peter was saved by Aunt Anna and MJ walking in at precisely that moment with a tray full of sandwiches.

Peter was a bit relieved, although he knew he'd have to come up with some lie about how he'd broken up with Johnny or something eventually. 

* * *

Peter stumbled wearily into his apartment at seven o'clock the next morning, swinging in through his bedroom window rather carelessly.

He was so tired that he couldn't bring himself to care if his neighbors saw Spider-Man climbing through Peter Parker's bedroom window in broad daylight--he longed merely for the peaceful oblivion he'd find as he was swept away on the gentle tides of slumber. 

Except that they weren't so gentle anymore, not since Gwen's death. He'd been haunted by visions of her shattered, lifeless body too often to be fooled by the sweet, deceitful promises of sleep.

Peter stared at the bed indecisively, fingers clenching open and shut. There was nothing else on Earth he wanted to do right now other than sleep; at the same time, he dreaded what he would find there, in the cold dark spaces of his subconscious mind. 

Part of him shuddered at the thought of what dark paths his dreams might lead him down. What if they were once more filled with shining gold tresses, stained a dark crimson, and that black void Peter could never escape, the one he could feel clinging to him even during the bright light of day, the one he feared he would someday lose himself within?

But there was another part that welcomed the pain, welcomed even the darkness, even the despair that was sure to follow. Wasn't it all worth it, that small voice said, for one more glimpse of Gwen, no matter how fleeting, no matter how horrifying, no matter how traumatic?

"Yes," Peter whispered disconsolately. "Yes."

He surrendered then, as he never had, and never would, to a living enemy, and allowed himself to collapse, spread-eagled, onto the bed, unsure of whether he was excited at the prospect of dreaming or terrified of it.

He was fast asleep before his head had even hit the pillow.


	10. The Kiss That Awoke My Heart

Johnny and Jen had been waiting outside of their favorite nightclub for what felt like a billion years.

It was _sooooo_ annoying, Johnny thought grumpily, because all he wanted to do tonight was go inside the damn nightclub already and dance until he was too exhausted to do anything other than sleep tonight. He definitely didn't want to spend another tortuous night twisting restlessly beneath sweat-soaked sheets, haunted by dreams that were rife with the smiling hazel eyes and silky brown hair of Peter Parker.

But he couldn't do that because he and Jen were stuck waiting here for Mary Jane to show up. She was very, very late, but he couldn't very well leave her hanging. 

"She _here_ yet?" Johnny asked impatiently, pacing restlessly back and forth in front of Jen, who was leaning back against the grimy wall of the club, the sharp high heel of her violet strapless shoe digging into the bricks behind her.

Knowing he was going to wait for Mary Jane no matter what didn't mean he couldn't whine endlessly about it. Whining was kind of his specialty, after all. 

"Stop _asking_ that, Torchy," Jen said irritably, not even bothering to look up from her phone. "That's the _fifth time_ you've asked that in the past _ten minutes_. Which means you've been asking every _two_ minutes."

Huh. Johnny must be slipping, if that was true. Normally he could shoot off about thirty of those irritating questions in the span of ten minutes. He was a certified _pro_ at pestering Reed and Ben and Sue with his incessant questions.

It was a skill he was proud of. He'd honed and cultivated it carefully over the years.

Heh. Maybe he should add it to his resume. If he ever bothered to _make_ a resume, that is.

"What could be keeping her?" he wondered, pointedly ignoring Jen. "You don't think something happened to her, do you?" 

"Buses are probably late or something," Jen said, unconcerned. "I'm sure she wasn't abducted by a supervillain or anything."

Johnny stopped dead in his tracks and stared at Jen, flummoxed. "Why the _hell_ would _Mary Jane Watson_ get abducted by a _supervillain_?" he asked incredulously. "She's an _undergrad_!"

"I don't know," Jen said, shrugging a bare green shoulder. "Maybe one of them decided to reenact _King Kong_ with a redhead?"

"Why would anyone _want_ to do that?" Johnny scoffed, and resumed his pacing. "That was a totally lame movie. The special effects sucked."

Jen flicked her eyes up at him and squinted. "Well, _duh_ ," she said slowly. "It was made in the _thirties_ , Torchy."

Johnny came to a halt in front of her again. "They had computerized special effects in the thirties?" he asked, genuinely surprised. "I didn't know that."

Jen rolled her eyes, and buried her face in her hand. " _No_ , Torchy. You're thinking of the _remake_. I was talking about the _original_."

" _Oh_ ," Johnny said, as thought it suddenly all made sense. He scrunched up his nose and shook his head at Jen. "Yeah, I'm not watching that. I refuse to watch anything that isn't in color, and I especially won't watch anything that doesn't have cool explosions. Unless Sue makes me, anyways."

Jen snorted, glanced back down at her phone, and started texting someone. "Yep," she said dryly. "That sounds _exactly_ like you."

Johnny didn't get the chance to ask her what the hell she meant by _that_ , because he was distracted by the unmistakable sound of someone running on cement in high heels. He whirled around, glancing down the street and searching for the source of the sound.

He smiled when he saw Mary Jane rushing towards him, clutching her purse in one hand and her cell phone in the other.

How she managed to _run_ in six-inch heels he really wasn't sure, but he definitely envied her the skill. He could hardly manage to _walk_  in high heels.

"I'm here!" she announced, breathless, right before she toppled against him unsteadily and threw her arms around his neck. Johnny held her upright until he felt her breath even out, and she pulled back, smiled apologetically at him, and said, "Sorry. Emergency. And sorry I didn't call." She showed him the phone she'd been clutching in her left hand. "I dropped my phone, and it won't turn on anymore."

"Aw," Johnny said sympathetically. "Bummer. Was that, uh, a Peter emergency?"

Mary Jane's eyes widened. As a rule, Johnny tried not to mention Peter these days, so he could hardly blame her for her surprise.

He'd decided to try it out, just to see how it felt. He wanted to see if it still felt like someone was slowly cutting his heart out with a blunt butter knife every time Peter's name left his lips.

Johnny was none too pleased to discover it still did.

It hadn't been very long at all, he supposed, since Peter'd done his best to tear his heart out of his chest and stomp on it.

He should probably give himself more time. That's what Sue kept telling him, anyhow. 

But Johnny had never excelled at patience, and he wanted it to happen _now_. He'd do anything to rush it along, the slow inexorable process of forgetting that would one day allow him to return to Peter's side, as a friend and nothing else.

Johnny didn't care anymore _how_ it happened; he just wanted—no,  _needed_ —to be near to Peter again. Peter's presence was the only remedy he knew of that could soothe the slow, relentless ache that had taken root in Johnny's soul.

"Yeah," MJ replied, the smile she gave a tad too tight to appear genuine.

"Yeah," Johnny said quietly, looking away from her because he couldn't stand seeing the look of worry in her eyes.

The silence stretched out between them awkwardly. 

Johnny's mind cast about for something to say that didn't have to do with Peter. He didn't want to talk about him anymore. 

"How is he?" Johnny heard himself ask.

"He's—well, he's not, uh. Hmph." MJ frowned and abruptly fell silent, sounding as though she wasn't entirely sure what to tell him. 

Johnny made himself look at her, and forced himself to smile, although he suspected it came off as rather more fragile than he intended. "It's okay," he assured her. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want."

"No," MJ said. "I do, I'll tell you anything you want to know, it's just—I don't know how much it'll, uh, help you to know. Are you sure you want to?"

"Yes," Johnny said instantly, and found that he meant it. There must be a reason she didn't want to tell him. Maybe Peter was in trouble, and if he was...Johnny had no idea _what_ he'd do, but he'd try to help somehow, no matter what it cost him, the way he always had. "How is he?"

MJ's mouth pressed together into a tight, thin line. "Terrible," she said glumly. "Miserable. Shutting down again. I'm—" She swallowed thickly. "—really worried about him, if you have to know. He's... _drowning,_ and he's not letting me help much. I do what I can, but...I don't know how much good I'm doing, really...He needs _you,_ and I think we all know it."

"I _wish_ I could help," Johnny said wistfully. "I wish he'd _let_ me help."

MJ reached a hand out, squeezed his arm, and smiled at him warmly. "I wish you could too. Things were easier with you around. You made him happy, you know. Happier than I'd seen him in ages."

"Yeah," Johnny said, shoving down a pang of guilt. "I know. What can I say?" He rubbed at the back of his neck. "I did my best to help. I'd still be helping if—if he'd let me."

He'd given Peter everything he had, and would have given him more, but Peter still hadn't wanted him, in the end, and there was nothing Johnny could do about that.

"And you did, for awhile there," MJ said earnestly. "You really did."

"Hey," Jen called, pushing off the wall and walking over to them. "Jess and Carol just got inside. They want to know where we are."

"Tell them we're going in now, Jen." He frowned as he struggled to remember. "Uh, I can't remember. Have you two met before?" Johnny inquired.

"No," Jen said, smiling pleasantly and holding out a hand to Mary Jane. "I don't think we have. I've heard him mention you a lot, of course, Mary Jane. That makes you alright in my book."

Johnny thought it was weird and kind of amusing that MJ suddenly looked flustered and was even maybe blushing, although it was hard to tell in the dim streetlight.

"And I've heard of you, of course, from, well, everywhere," MJ said nervously, taking Jen's hand and shaking it awkwardly. "A pleasure to meet you, Ms. She-Hulk."

Jen tossed her head back and laughed, delighted. "Oh, no," she said. "Please just call me Jen. I'm only She-Hulk when I'm punching dinosaurs in the teeth."

"Has...that really happened?" Mary Jane asked uncertainly, eyes shifting back and forth between Jen and Johnny. "I never know when you guys are being serious. Oh, and, um, I'm Mary Jane. Or MJ. You can call me either."

"I know you're Mary Jane, Mary Jane," Jen said, smiling at MJ as though she was the cutest thing she'd ever seen.

Hey, no fair. _Johnny_ was the cutest thing she'd ever seen. Johnny was the cutest thing _anyone'd_ ever seen. He hated it when people forgot that.

"Well, Ms. Either," Johnny said, deciding it was best to break up this little Shulkie lovefest. He put an arm around MJ's shoulders and led her towards the VIP entrance. "We'd better get inside before you embarrass yourself more."

MJ groaned and pressed a hand to her face. "That was a _terrible_ joke, even by you and Peter standards."

"What can I say?" Johnny sighed melodramatically, squeezing at her shoulders. "Peter took my sense of humor in the break-up."

Jen snorted up ahead of them. " _That's_ assuming you ever had one, and you didn't."

"You know what, Shulkie?" Johnny said, annoyed. "Go to hell."

Jen tossed him a winning smile over her shoulder.

"I mean, it's not like you can blame me," MJ said defensively, still stuck on her embarrassing love of Jen. "She _is_ She-Hulk."

Johnny narrowed his eyes at her. "Are you absolutely _positive_ that you didn't have posters of her up in your bedroom? It sounds like you did. Is she your me?" 

"What?" MJ said with a small frown. "Not following."

"You know. Peter had posters of me. I'm asking if you had posters of her on _your_ wall," Johnny said, smirking. 

"What?" MJ said, startled. "What? No! _No_ , I didn't, I swear!"

"Yeah, but would you admit it if you had?"

"No, of course not," MJ scoffed. 

"Then your denials mean nothing," Johnny decided.

"Johnny," Jen said, shooting him a look. "Give the girl a break, and stop embarrassing her."

"It's just payback for all the times she's mocked me. Now I have fodder. Thanks for that, Shulkie. Oh, how the tables have turned, MJ. I know all about your embarrassing crush on Jen."

Johnny only wished Peter was here to see this. They'd have a _field day_ with this.

"I'm sure it's not a crush, Torchy," Jen said patronizingly. She reached out and grabbed the handle of a doorknob. "It's this one, right?"

"Yep," Johnny said with a swift nod as Jen propped it open. There was a blast of loud hip-hop music when the door was wedged open enough. "We have to make sure they put us in the VIP section. I'm a celebrity, so I deserve special treatment. I can't be seen milling around with you regular folks."

MJ shot him a look that said she knew he was only about ninety percent kidding, and she resented the other ten. "All of this power has gone to your head. That's never good."

Johnny gave her his most charming smile, the one that melted hearts and made girls everywhere swoon. Well, not _actually_ swoon, that he'd ever seen. But, you know, theoretically, as in that's what he liked to tell people. "Well, hey, at least I know I'll be with the two prettiest girls there," he said. "That's pretty good from where I'm standing."

"Excuse you," Jen said icily, leaning against the door. "We both happen to be women."

Johnny rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean."

MJ crossed her arms. "What exactly _did_ you mean?" she said coolly.

Johnny spluttered. "Hey!" he said heatedly. "I was trying to _compliment_ you guys."

Jen pounced on that instantly. "Oh, so we're guys now?"

"Girls! I mean, _women_ ," Johnny corrected. He squinted at them. "Are you, uh, _ladies_ messing with me right now?"

MJ and Jen exchanged amused glances.

"Consider it payback," MJ said with a charming smile. "Besides, you're hilarious when you're flustered."

"He is, isn't he?" Jen said, delighted to find that MJ had similar views on the subject. "Let's see who can fluster him the most tonight, how's about that? We can let Carol and Jess in on it too."

"Deal," MJ said, sticking out her hand for Jen to shake. "The game is on."

" _You're bonding over torturing me_ ," Johnny grumbled. "I regret introducing you two to each other. I realize now that it was possibly the _worst_ mistake I've ever made, and I have made some doozies."

"We know," MJ said, patting his back soothingly. "About seventy-five percent of your wardrobe fits in that category."

Jen gave a low impressed whistle and held up a hand for MJ to high five. "Good one."

Johnny looked down at his clothes. "What's wrong with how I dress?" he said petulantly. "I'm _stylish,_ I'll have you know. I read it in a teen magazine, so it must be true. They said it, 'The inimitably stylish Johnny Storm,' right there in black and white."

"Well," MJ said skeptically. "Now _that_ doesn't sound true."

"It is, and I  _am_!" Johnny said indignantly. "You two just don't understand the complexities of male fashion."

"Well, neither do you," Jen said pleasantly.

Johnny's mouth dropped open. "Cold, Shulkie, that was _cold_. That settles it. I'm going inside now, where my true beauty will be appreciated," he said, right before walking inside and leaving those two jerks outside where they belonged.

"I wouldn't count on that!" he heard MJ call after him, accompanied by Jen's gales of laughter.

* * *

MJ's first meeting with Carol and Jess went much more smoothly.

She managed _not_ to act like a blushing schoolgirl, which was a good thing, because she was fairly certain Johnny'd tease her mercilessly if she had.

She knew he was going to keep after her because of the She-Hulk thing as it was.

And, oh god, she could never let him find out that she actually had put up posters of Jen in her bedroom a year or two ago, right around the time She-Hulk started making the news.

But it was because she was a strong positive female role model—a lawyer and a superhero, and not _at all_ because she had a crush on her.

Not that, now that she'd met her, she didn't find herself admiring Jen's stunning beauty, and especially her alluringly unique green skin. 

* * *

Johnny was very much enjoying having been invited out on Shulkie, Jess, and Carol's girls' night out, even if he'd thought it a little strange at first, when Shulkie'd suggested it.

He was pretty sure she'd done it because he'd been moping, and she was hoping to pull him out of his funk.

There were definite perks to being the only guy hanging out with a group of girls. He'd really have to try it more often. Honestly, it was better than hanging out with guys. 

The drinks were better, the conversation funnier and more interesting, and there were plenty of people to dance with that wouldn't potentially out him in the pages of some tabloid.

It might be kind of shallow of him, but he loved that he got to dance with four of the most beautiful girls in the club, and practically _everyone_ in there seemed to think they were his dates, all four of them at once.

He got envious looks from all of the men, and he was _loving_ it. 

Life was _good_...for about five minutes.

For all of her good qualities, MJ really was an _incorrigible_ meddler.

He really should've known something was up, because it was her, and she couldn't ever help herself.

The first sign of trouble was when the girls sent him off to get drinks for all of them at the bar, even though the waiters brought them to you, because it was the VIP section, and if you paid people enough, they'd do practically anything, but noooo. The girls insisted he just had to go to the bar for them.

("You have to watch the drinks get _made_ , Torchy," Jen had scoffed. "It isn't safe otherwise. Now _shoo_. Don't you dare come back without a Manhattan for me." Johnny'd just rolled his eyes and gone, at that point.)

That should've been a tip off, and maybe it would've been, if Johnny hadn't already been so buzzed from the alcohol.

But then when he was heading back with all the cocktails (including an appletini for himself, yum), he could see they were all whispering to each other and laughing themselves _silly_ about something, but as soon as they spotted him, they stopped. Suspicious, right?

It was the opposite of how things usually went—people usually started laughing _after_ he showed up, because he was so goddamn funny they just couldn't help it. It was a gift, his sense of humor. It was one of the many reasons why everyone loved him. Along with his stunningly good looks, his generosity, his selflessness, his impeccable fashion sense (screw MJ and Jen for suggesting otherwise), and, of course, the whole hero bit.

And screw Peter too, while he was at it, for not appreciating all of the things Johnny had to offer as a potential boyfriend.

Things were fine for a little while after that. They all sat around in the VIP area, laughing and drinking and talking, and things were great, and Johnny almost forgot all about cute spider-guys with their nice smiles and cute freckles and very kissable mouths.

It was all ruined when MJ yanked him up abruptly and informed him they were going to go dance out amongst the thronging multitudes, whether he liked it or not.

Johnny shrugged and said, "Fine, whatever," because he really didn't care, and MJ was a pretty great dancer anyhow, so he didn't mind dancing with her.

When she got him out on the dance floor, though, she seemed a bit distracted, combing through the crowd as though she was looking for someone specific, and not really dancing with him.

"Uh," Johnny shouted over the loud music. "Are we looking for somebody?"

"What?" MJ said, head whipping back over to him as she smiled up at him guiltily. "No! Who would I be looking for?"

"I dunno," Johnny said, squinting at her. "That's what I was wondering."

"C'mon, Flamebrain, dance," she said, clearly trying to butter him up. "Smile. Look like you're having fun."

"Uh, why exactly should I do that?" Johnny asked suspiciously. "Something's happening and you don't want me to know about it. What is it?"

MJ's eyes fixed on something over her shoulder, and then she grinned victoriously at it, said, "Gotcha," and hauled Johnny forward into a kiss.

Johnny's brain skittered to a halt.

What.

Was.

_Happening?_

In other news, apparently somewhere along the way he'd started thinking of MJ more as a sister than a hot girl, because this kiss was about as appealing as kissing Sue would probably be, by which Johnny meant it was all kinds of wildly disturbing.

The wheels of Johnny's brain eventually began turning just enough for him to figure out that he should probably push MJ away.

Johnny grabbed her shoulders and hauled her mouth off of his. "What the hell was _that_?" he yelled. " _Not_ cool!"

MJ was looking at him apologetically, but she pointed at something over his shoulder. Johnny whirled around to look, and discovered, much to his great shock, that Peter was standing there, mouth hanging open, looking like he'd just caught his best friend making out with his boyfriend.

 _No_ , Johnny thought. Nuh-uh. Peter didn't get to be betrayed, didn't get to be hurt about this. He and Johnny were _not_ dating, and that was _Peter's_ choice, not Johnny's. Johnny had every right to kiss and date whoever he felt like. The fact that he chose not to do either of those things was his own business. 

"You are _unbelievable_ ," Peter said hotly. "I asked you not to, MJ."

"Asked her not to what?" Johnny asked, not really sure what the hell was going on.

"Why shouldn't I?" MJ threw back at him. "You don't want him, so that makes him fair game, doesn't it?"

"He is not fair game for you!" Peter hissed.

"Why, Peter," MJ said coolly, unfazed by the heat in Peter's voice, "if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were jealous."

Peter's eyes were icy, his face grim, his jaw set. Anger rolled off of him in waves, so much so that Johnny could almost feel the heat of it prickling across his skin.

Johnny'd never seen that look on his face before, and he thought he'd seen _all_ of Peter's faces.

That face made Johnny suddenly understand how Peter could've faced down monsters like the Green Goblin and the Kingpin and emerged victorious.

Peter might seem sweet and kind and bumbling on the surface, but beneath it lay a core of pure steel, hard and impenetrable, and a fiery temper that matched Johnny's own.

That Peter, the one he rarely let anyone catch a glimpse of, the one who'd somehow, miraculously, managed to survive battling criminals and monsters since he was little more than a child, was the Peter who was standing before him now, with every ounce of that determination, that courage, that strength of will, emanating from eyes as dark and hard as flint.

"Go to _hell_ ," Peter gritted out. "You can _both_ go to hell."

He vanished into the crowd, and even though Johnny searched, he couldn't find him again.

"What the hell just _happened_?" he shouted, giving up and rounding on MJ. "What the hell did you just _do_?"

"Peter would never in a million years tell you that he had feelings for you," MJ explained. "You know that. I had to make him show you, or you two would never work things out. I'm sorry for just grabbing and kissing you, but I knew that Peter's a little paranoid about you and me hooking up."

"He is?" Johnny said, shocked.

"Yeah," MJ said, with a small, almost imperceptible nod. "He actually asked me not to make a pass at you."

"He did?" Johnny said, not quite believing his ears. 

MJ nodded eagerly. "Don't you _see_? He can't deny that he likes you now." She tossed her hands into the air. "What are you waiting for, moron? _Go after him._ "

Johnny didn't even hesitate. He just ran out of the club, heart thumping loudly in his ears, almost drowning out the impossibly loud music of the club.

Maybe this was it, maybe he'd finally be able to reach Peter, maybe all of his prayers would be answered at last. 

* * *

"I think you won the make Johnny flustered game," Jen said to Mary Jane as she sat back down.

"Yeah," MJ agreed. "Probably. But, c'mon, I cheated. I had Peter Parker to use against him, and Peter Parker has always been Johnny Storm's kryptonite."

Jen clinked her glass against Mary Jane's and gave her a bright and beautiful smile that made Mary Jane's chest twist up into little knots. "To finding _our_ kryptonite." 

Mary Jane's lips curled up in a lovely crimson smile, and she said, "And may our path to finding it be less painful and rocky than those two idiots'." 

* * *

Johnny rushed out of the club and whirled around, searching desperately for Peter's familiar figure in the badly illuminated, abandoned streets that surrounded the club. 

He _had_ to find him, had to get him to _admit—_

He squinted in both directions, but it was hard to see in a darkness punctuated only by the rings of golden light from a scant number of streetlamps.

He spotted Peter at last, maybe a block away, barreling away from the club as fast as his legs could carry him. He was hunched over, hands shoved deep into his pockets.

Johnny ran after him, heart pounding in his chest, feet slamming loudly against the pavement.

"Peter," he said breathlessly when he finally caught up with him. " _Wait_. I want to talk to you."

Peter stiffened at the sound of his voice. "Well, I _don't_ want to talk to _you_ , Storm," he hissed, and started walking faster.

"No! We are _talking_ about this, Parker," he said, struggling to keep up with the fast pace Peter'd set.

"Get _lost,_ " Peter said shrilly, when Johnny didn't go. "Why don't you just go back to your little girlfriend? I hope you're very happy together."

"She is _not_ my girlfriend," Johnny said forcefully. "She's not. C'mon, you can't really think I could ever even _look_ at anyone but you." 

Peter turned his head to shoot him a warning look. Peter didn't want Johnny spewing romantic nonsense. Johnny got the message loud and clear.

Peter's eyes fixed on Johnny's mouth, and flashed with rage. "Oh, Jesus fucking _Christ_ , Johnny, at least wipe her lipstick off of your mouth before you say that."

Holy hell. Peter was _cussing_. Like, saying the word 'fuck.' That hardly _ever_ happened. Gulp. He must be _livid_.

Johnny fumbled to scrub off the last remaining evidence of his kiss with MJ. "I didn't _ask_ her to...do that, and I didn't know she was going to. She was just trying to show me that you were jealous, because it means you like me."

"I do _not_ ," Peter snapped. 

"Then _why_ do you care that MJ was kissing me?" Johnny asked desperately. "Why do you care that we might be dating? Why would you unless you have feelings for me?"

Peter's mouth snapped shut.

"If you weren't jealous, why were you even there?"

Peter's jaw clenched tightly. "MJ mentioned she was going to be there. I just...didn't want to be alone. She didn't mention you would be there too, or I wouldn't have gone." 

"So why'd you stay after you saw me?"

That Peter did not have an answer for.

"You stayed," Johnny said confidently, more sure of that than he'd ever been of anything, "because you were jealous, and you were jealous because you have feelings for me."

"No!" Peter shouted, nearly hysterical, step faltering at last as he pressed his hands to his ears, as though he wanted to shut out Johnny's words. " _No_. I don't, I don't, I _don't_!"

"Pete," Johnny said soothingly, "c'mon. What's the point in even denying it anymore? _I_ know it's true. _You_ know it's true. Half the superheroes in New York know it's true."

Peter deflated at that, all the fight bleeding out of him. He reached a hand out blindly and leaned heavily against the lamp post, covering his face with his free hand.

He slumped against the cool black metal of the lamp post, and gave in to Johnny's dogged insistence at last. "Fine," he said wearily. Johnny resisted the urge to pump his fists in the air, because there'd been a part of him that had begun to lose hope that this would ever happen. "Fine. Maybe it _is_ true." He tore his hand away from his face. "But it doesn't change anything. I still can't date you."

"Wait, why the hell not?"

"I just. Can't do it to you," Peter said wretchedly. He was looking wistfully off into the distance, eyes fixed on the thick and impenetrable darkness that filled a nearby alley. 

Johnny's fingers twitched with the urge to reach out and curl a hand around Peter's bicep, drag him close, and wrap his arms around him. He clenched his hands into fists to stop himself. He swallowed a few times, until he was sure he had himself tightly under control, and asked, "Can't do what, Pete?"

Peter straightened up again, and Johnny was appalled to notice how unsteady Peter was on his feet.

He quickly and surreptitiously took an inventory of Peter's appearance. Circles beneath his eyes spoke of one too many sleepless nights, the combination of disheveled clothing and a wan thinness told him that Peter'd been neglecting to care for himself the way he should. Worse yet, the stiff way he was holding his shoulders meant that he was probably hurt. Couple of ribs, Johnny guessed. He probably shouldn't even be out of _bed_. That was probably what MJ's emergency had been, come to think of it.

Dammit, Johnny cursed silently, dammit, dammit, _dammit_! He should've _been_ there, should've _helped_ , should've had Peter's _back_. He was supposed to _always_ have Peter's back.

Peter should never've been allowed to reach this point, and it was all Johnny's fault, he knew that, because he'd let Peter down. He'd fallen in love with him, without being able to help it, without even noticing it was happening until it was too late, and it'd made Peter push him away, made it so that Johnny couldn't be there for him when he needed him. 

Looking at Peter now, all he could think was that it wasn't worth it. Feeling this way about Peter, if this was the cost, _it_   _wasn't worth it_.

 _Nothing_ was worth this. 

He _despised_ seeing Peter in this state. It made something ugly and horrible twist through his chest, like the agonizing twist of a knife's blade.

This was _Peter_. Peter shouldn't _ever_ look like this.

There was virtually nothing Johnny wouldn't do to keep Peter from having that—that _look_ on his face, like someone'd come along with a carving knife and hollowed out his insides, so that all that was left was an empty shell.

Honestly, Peter looked like all it would take was a good strong wind to make him crumble into tiny little pieces that no one would ever be able to put back together.

That thought made Johnny's throat clench so tightly he could hardly breathe.

"Can't do what, Pete?" he repeated.

"Drag you down with me," Peter answered, looking worn out and defeated. "I can't, Johnny, I just _can't_. Go home, pal. Hug your family for me. Be grateful they're all still alive. And just...forget about me."

"I _can't_ ," Johnny said. 

How could Peter ever even think that he'd be  _capable_ of that?

"You have to," Peter rasped out, hugging his arms to his chest. " _Please_ , Johnny. I don't know what I'd do if you..." He swallowed thickly.

"I _won't,"_ Johnny said fiercely, taking a step towards him. "Not _ever_. That's not _ever_ going to happen. I can tell you that right now. I'm _never_ going to turn my back on you. I don't care _what_ happens."

"That's what I was afraid of," Peter said, voice small, staring dejectedly at the pavement. "I'm afraid being with me will—will end badly for you. I can't let that happen, Johnny. I can't. Not to you. _Never_ to you."

Johnny's breath hitched. That was the closest to a flat-out declaration of love that Johnny was ever likely to get from Peter. "It _won't_ happen to me," he said firmly, wishing he could think of a way to make Peter believe him. "It _won't_."

Peter smiled then, and Johnny wished he hadn't, because it was so broken and hopeless that it made Johnny's heart shatter. "It happened to Gwen. It happened to my Uncle Ben. I lost them both. And now I've lost Harry too. Truth is, I was _always_ going to lose you, Johnny. Seeing Harry again just reminded me of that. At least this way I got to control how and why, and I got to make sure you didn't get hurt along the way. Face it, Johnny. I had to. I'm bad for you. Bad for everyone. You'll only get hurt if you keep hanging around me. So please, Johnny, _please_ , just go." 

"Oh, you _idiot_ ," Johnny said. "You complete and utter _idiot_."

"I'm not an idiot," Peter said, but there was no heat behind it. "I'm being practical."

"Dude," Johnny said, reaching out with both hands to grip Peter's shoulders and look him squarely in the eye, "you can't focus so much on what might happen that you don't let yourself have anything right now. We both have feelings for each other. You're the best part of my life, and I think I might maybe be the best part of yours. Why can't we just...let ourselves have that?"

"Because you could get hurt," Peter said. "And I won't let you."

"I swear to you," Johnny tried, "everything's gonna be fine, and I'm _not_ leaving you."

"Everyone always does," Peter said brokenly, shifting his eyes away from Johnny's face, eyes shining far too brightly in the yellow light of the lamp above them. "Why should you be the exception?"

"Because I care about you too much to ever _,_ _ever_ leave you," Johnny said feverishly. He drew his hands back and took a step away from Peter. "Besides," he continued, a slight flush crawling up his cheeks, "I...I dunno." He combed a hand through his hair. "Aw, hell. Just—there're other reasons, trust me."

Peter's eyes found Johnny's. "What—what reasons?" 

"I just—Pete," he pleaded, "c'mon, don't make me say it. You've gotta know already."

"No," Peter said, tilting his head in that way Johnny loved so much, the one that never failed to make Johnny want to grab Peter and kiss him breathless. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Seriously?" Johnny said incredulously. "You really don't know?"

"Know what?" Peter asked.

"I'm...I'm in love with you," Johnny said hesitantly. He still had no idea how Peter would react to this apparently new piece of information. "Duh."

Peter's jaw dropped, and Johnny couldn't look at him anymore, too afraid to see what was hidden in the depths of his eyes because he was too terrified of finding pity there.

"You really didn't know?" Johnny asked, feeling his face grow hot. "I really thought you knew."

"How would I know?" Peter asked hoarsely. "You never _said_."

"I know," Johnny said. "But to be fair, you kind of blew up at me every time I even mentioned _dating_. I didn't think you'd react very well to finding out I'm, uh, head over heels in love with you."

"Oh," Peter said faintly, fixing his eyes on the tips of his shoes. "You...are? Uh. I. That, uh. It. Makes sense, I guess."

"Yeah," Johnny said awkwardly. He crossed his arms over his chest and shuffled his weight back and forth on the balls of his feet. "So. C'mon, you're gonna freak out and yell at me now, because that's how these things always go. So come on, let's just get it over with."

Peter's eyes fluttered up to his face, and then dropped back to the floor. "I'm. Not going to yell. Johnny. Not this time."

"You...aren't?" Johnny said, taken aback. "Uh. Is that good? What does that mean? What—what  _is_ going to happen then?"

Peter was quiet for a little while after that, almost as though he was struggling to figure it out himself. "I still can't date you, Johnny," he said at last. "I just can't. No matter how much I might, uh, want to. There are too many reasons not to."

"Oh," Johnny breathed, disappointed, eyes fixing on a spot of old chewing gum on the pavement. "Oh."

"But I _can_ do _this_ ," Peter said, reaching out a hand to cup the back of Johnny's neck. "I can let myself have this," he whispered against Johnny's lips, voice almost pleading. "Just—just this once."

Johnny wasn't sure that this was really happening. He was dreaming. That had to be it, right? Because there was no other way to explain the fact that Peter closed the final inch between their mouths, and then Peter's soft lips were pressing lightly against his, slow and sweet, and time just stopped.

Johnny brought his arms up cautiously, wrapping Peter up in them as tightly as he could, trapping him there, right where Johnny'd always wanted him—in the circle of his arms, where Peter _belonged_.

Just this once, Peter had said. That meant that this might be the only time, _ever,_ that Johnny got to kiss Peter, and that thought alone made him want to cry, because everything about this—Peter's hands tugging at his hair, his teeth scraping across Johnny's lower lip, his low moans, the way he shuddered at Johnny's teasing touches, the sweet taste of his mouth that was more intoxicating than any of the alcohol Johnny'd consumed—felt more right than anything Johnny had felt in a very, very long time.

It was setting fireworks off behind his eyelids, sending shivers of lust and pleasure shooting up and down his spine.

Johnny never wanted it to end.

He took control of the kiss, crowded Peter back against the lamp post behind them, so Peter couldn't get away.

He poured everything he had into the kiss, all of his passion, all of his need, all of his want, all of his yearning, all of his love. Every time he'd wanted to kiss Peter but couldn't (which was _always_ , every damned second of every day), every time he'd wanted to hold Peter close and keep him safe but hadn't been able to—he was making up for all of it, every last one, with a single searing kiss.

He needed Peter to _understand,_ needed him to _know_ , even if it was just this once, the sheer, blinding intensity of what Johnny felt for him.

He needed Peter to understand that the flames that blazed across his skin were nothing compared to the fires that tore through his veins, the ones that burned so hotly and so unceasingly for Peter, and  _only_ for Peter.

Right now, with Peter pressed against him, touch burning where it grazed against Johnny's bare skin, Johnny thought that he understood at last what it meant to burn alive.

Suffice it to say, it was one hell of a kiss.

If this had been in one of those romantic comedies Sue loved so much, there would have been sweeping orchestral music, or maybe some corny Sarah McLachlan song playing in the background, and one of those whirling panoramic camera shots, and it would've made everyone in the audience coo.

Thank god it wasn't, though, because Johnny found the thought slightly sickening, and he wanted to enjoy this, dammit, and focus on committing every perfect, tortuous second of it to memory.

By the time it was done, Johnny was reeling, his knees buckling.

He slumped against Peter to keep himself upright, eyes still closed as he took a few moments to savor the kiss for which he'd been waiting so desperately.

His lips still tingled from where they'd been pressed against Peter's, the heady taste of Peter's mouth lingering bewitchingly on his tongue.

He pressed his forehead against Peter's and enjoyed the feel of Peter's hot breath as it whispered across his skin.  

For a few seconds after Peter's lips had left his, he honestly couldn't've said which way was up or down. He knew only that the world beneath his feet was spinning away, reminding him of when he'd been a little kid, and he'd spin round and round in his front yard until he made himself dizzy and toppled over, elated, giggling, the sky above him whirling in circles.

He slid his eyes open lazily, and found Peter studying him intently, almost as though he was as eager to remember every second of this as Johnny was.

Johnny didn't have to ask—he already knew what was going through Peter's brain. He was making the decision, right now—should he go, or should he stay?

"Pete," Johnny whispered softly, pressing his forehead back against Peter's, not able to bear the thought of being away from Peter again. " _Please_ don't go. I don't want you to. I want you here, with me, where you belong. Where I belong. Please, you _have_ to know that we belong together by now."

Peter went very quiet and very still—Johnny was almost afraid he'd stopped breathing. Close as he was, Johnny could see every emotion that flickered through his eyes, and was able to pinpoint the precise moment when he made his decision.

Johnny's heart sank as he realized he'd lost the battle. 

"I have to go," Peter said hoarsely, and tore himself away from Johnny, running down the street as quickly as he could.

"Peter, wait!" Johnny called, reaching out a hand after him. Peter didn't stop, didn't even bother to look back.

Johnny slid down the wall and sat down heavily, clutching his head in his hands.


	11. With A Little Help From My Friends

The curtains were drawn shut in Peter's bedroom to keep out the offending rays of the sun. 

Peter wanted to hide himself away there, forever in the dark, where no one would ever find him. 

His apartment was in utter shambles—covers torn off of the bed, pillows ripped apart, nightstand overturned, lamps shattered, tables kicked to pieces.

Peter supposed it looked as though someone had been fighting for their life in there—and really, that wasn't that far off.

Peter's fingers had itched with the need to do something when he'd gotten home the night before, to give free reign to the rage and despair and remorse that had made every breath catch in his throat and threaten to turn into a sob.

He was _furious_ with himself for being weak enough to kiss Johnny, guilty because he'd loved it, desperate because all he could think about was kissing Johnny again.

Oh god. He was the worst boyfriend _ever_.

Kissing someone else when Gwen had given her _life_ for him—how could he ever live with himself after this? He'd betrayed Gwen and _everything_ they'd had together, and he hated himself _so much_ for being so damn weak. For not having the strength to stay faithful to her, after everything she'd given up for him. No, he should be more accurate. After she'd given up  _everything_  for his sake.

As for Johnny—the flash of hurt in Johnny's eyes Peter'd managed to catch before he fled from the scene of his crime, Peter despised himself for causing it. He should've stayed away, let Johnny forget him, the way he'd wanted to in the first place.

 _Why hadn't he done that?_ he berated himself. Why did he keep going back to Johnny, over and over again, when it just hurt both of them so much, and there was no point to it, none, because how could he ever let anything real happen between them, when it would mean betraying Gwen?

He could see it now, so very clearly. He was hurting Johnny by choosing to remain faithful to Gwen, he was hurting Gwen because deep down, he _wanted_ Johnny, more than he'd wanted anything in a _very_ long time, and he was hurting himself by not being able to choose between them—where was this all going to _end_?

Peter didn't have a clue where this was all going, and that was _terrifying_. He'd always known, while Gwen was alive, what his life would hold. He'd marry her, and she'd be a genius scientist, and he'd be anything she needed him to be—friend, lover, partner—and go anywhere she wanted him to go. 

But now Gwen had been torn away from him, and his future had been wiped clean, until it was as blank as the pages of a book that hadn't been written yet. Peter was still reeling from the loss of that old clarity of purpose, struggling to understand what to make of himself now that what had once defined him was gone forever.

He'd tired himself out eventually, after destroying everything he could reach in his apartment—because that was what he _did_ , wasn't it? he'd thought viciously, as he'd reduced his coffee table to kindling. _That was what he did_. He destroyed everything—every _one—_ that came into his orbit, especially if they mattered to him.

He'd stumbled back against the wall afterwards, looking for something to support his shaking knees, and slid down slowly. He'd wrapped his arms around his knees, wedged between his nightstand and a corner of his bedroom, and focused on breathing steadily and _not crying_.

His eyes had grazed past the poster of Johnny he kept hidden behind his door, the one he'd put there after he'd broken things off with him, and remained fixed there.

Peter didn't know how long he sat like that, spellbound by Johnny's face, but he noted, somewhere in the back of his mind, that the shuttered light from the window slowly grew brighter. 

He'd put the poster there to punish himself after his break with Johnny, so that he'd have to remember, every time he opened his eyes in the morning, precisely what type of man he was.

Peter didn't even need to look at it anymore. He could call it to his mind perfectly, even when his eyelids dropped shut. He'd memorized every line of Johnny's face, all of it branded indelibly into his memory.

Johnny was striking a carelessly heroic pose in the poster, staring boldly off into the distance, lips curved in a perfect smile. There was even a tiny spot of light glinting off of his flawlessly white teeth.

Peter wondered sometimes if it was photoshopped or if Johnny's teeth really just did that. He was betting on the latter.

Johnny had so many smiles, but there was one—a spontaneous, crooked, affectionate smile—that Johnny seemed to reserve only for Peter. It made Johnny look like he was glowing, lit from within by...whatever he felt for Peter.

Peter couldn't help but wonder...was Johnny really in love with him? 

Peter couldn't bring himself to believe it. Couldn't, for the life of him, understand why.

He'd been huddled there, in the corner of his room, trying to wrap his mind around Johnny's declaration of love for hours.

What the hell did Johnny even  _see_ in him? 

Peter thought and thought all night long, as hard as he could, and he couldn't come up with a single reason. Why _Peter_ , of all people?

Peter'd been convinced that it was a crush, an infatuation, something superficial that would surely fade away in no time at all. Hadn't even been able to entertain the ridiculous notion that Johnny—brash, beautiful Johnny—could be in love with him.

Even now, even after having heard him say the words, it sounded absurd. Gorgeous, heroic Johnny Storm in love with plain and unassuming Peter Parker? It sounded unreal. It couldn't be true, it just _couldn't_.

Johnny was wrong, Peter told himself, and it really _was_ just a simple infatuation. He'd be over it by next Tuesday, and move on to the next new shiny thing.

Johnny did have a habit of falling in love every five seconds. Peter was probably just another case of that, because this _couldn't_ be real. 

Yes, that had to be it.

It was impossible that Johnny could really be in love with him, Peter told himself. Completely impossible.

What was there in the tumultuous mess of self-loathing and despair and darkness that roiled within Peter's chest that Johnny could possibly find appealing? 

Lost in his thoughts as he was, it took him a few moments to realize that the doorbell was ringing.

He debated not answering it for a beat, but finally forced himself to rise unsteadily on legs that had fallen asleep ages ago, and stumble blearily towards the door.

He wasn't particularly surprised to find Mary Jane standing on the other side of it.

Her eyes widened as she took in his appearance. He probably looked terrible, he supposed, after a sleepless night worrying about Johnny, and because of those broken ribs in his side that ached with a pain that was sharp and constant, and welcome because it grounded him here, in his body, in the here and now.

He could just picture his appearance. Thin, ashen face, hollow, bloodshot eyes, blood-stained knuckles, unkempt hair—there was really no wonder MJ was looking at him the way she was— shocked, horrified, worried. 

"MJ," Peter rasped out, letting his head thunk against the door's edge as he slumped against it. He looked away from her, eyes fixed on a point over her shoulder, because he couldn't even bring himself to look at her right now. "What do _you_ want?"

"I just...wanted to check on you, Tiger," he heard her say slowly, a slight tremor in her voice speaking eloquently of the level of her concern. "Are you...okay? What exactly happened last night?" She lifted herself up on her toes a tad, peeking over his shoulder at his apartment. "Oh my _god_ , what happened to your apartment? Did _you_ do that? Why the hell would you trash your own place?"

Peter scowled. "Oh, I don't know," he said hostilely to the wall behind her. "Maybe because my best friend completely betrayed my trust?"

He could feel MJ's eyes return suddenly to his face, startled and perhaps a tad guilty. "I did _not_ ," she protested. "I was _helping_. You know I don't actually want to date Johnny at all, don't you? I just wanted to help you show him how you feel about him. For your sake."

"Yeah, well, I don't _want_ your help, Mary Jane," Peter snapped. "I've told you that a million times." 

"And I've told _you_ , I don't _care_ whether or not you want it, Tiger," she said fiercely, eyes flashing as she took a step towards him. "You _need_ it, and you're always going to have it." She gestured at the disheveled mess that was his clothes, the bird's nest of his hair, the hollow, worn-out look on his face, the ruins of his apartment behind him. " _Look_ at you, Peter! Look at your apartment! You're both a _mess_!"

" _That_ ," Peter said, scowling, grip tightening on the doorknob, "is none of your business."

"You're my _best friend_ ," Mary Jane said earnestly. "I _care_ about you, and I'm worried to death right now! Of _course_ it's my business! Of _course_ I'm doing everything I can to help you!"

"Well, _stop_ ," Peter snarled. " _Don't_. Just...stay away from me. I've had just about enough of your help."

He slammed the door shut, right in her face.

He hunched on the sofa's arm rest, head bowed, eyes screwed shut, and listened to her pound on the door as she called out his name desperately for about fifteen minutes before she gave up and left.

Every sound was like the sharp twist of a blade in his heart. Mary Jane was the last vestige of normalcy—of his life before Gwen's death—that he had left.

And now she was gone.

Well, he tried to convince himself. Probably for the best. Yes. Peter would be better like this, without MJ or Johnny to get in the way of the mission. 

Now he could devote all of his time to helping people. Now there wouldn't be any distractions, apart from Aunt May.

Aunt May! Peter thought with a jolt of horror. He was supposed to visit Aunt May today.

He scrambled to get to his phone and check the time.  

Whoops.

He should head over there now if he didn't want to be late.

* * *

Peter was busy chopping tomatoes in Aunt May's kitchen, while she quizzed him on everything that'd happened in his life throughout the last week, like she always did.

And in return, Peter lied about practically everything, the way  _he_ always did.

He couldn't exactly tell her that he'd spent most of the week traipsing through the filthy sewers of Manhattan, trying to hunt down a giant, homicidal lizard so that he could turn him back into an overly ambitious geneticist, now could he?

And he definitely couldn't tell her about the fact that said lizard had smashed him against a brick wall yesterday, and broken three of his ribs, or that his entire torso was a giant, purple bruise that hurt like hell every time he so much as breathed or moved or anything, and it was probably a miracle that he'd managed to remain conscious and not screaming for so long.

Aunt May'd probably have a heart attack if she found out. She persisted in thinking of him as the frail, sickly boy he'd been before the spider-bite. Not that Peter minded—Aunt May spoiled him rotten because of it, and Peter loved every second of it. She was the only person in his life anymore who thought he mattered at all. Who even acknowledged his existence. He'd really done a stellar job of pushing everyone else who loved him away—Johnny, MJ, Harry. 

He knew also that he could never, _ever_ tell his aunt about what had transpired between him and Johnny last night, or any other night.

She was perfectly aware of the fact that they were at odds at the moment, of course, but Peter'd only told her that much because he'd had to explain Johnny's continued absence, given that she was convinced he was Peter's boyfriend. 

He didn't want her to worry about him or anything else, for that matter. She'd had so much to worry about over the last few years—recovering from her husband's death, helping Peter through Gwen's.

Peter couldn't bear to cause her any more pain. He wanted to keep her as happy as he could, and if that meant lying to her, keeping the truth of his life a secret from her, well, so be it.

Peter sighed as he slid the tomatoes into a bowl Aunt May'd set out for him and grabbed the onion she'd asked him to slice next. 

He didn't even know what he'd _say_ about what had happened last night anyways, he thought, as he sliced the onion in half. Couldn't fully explain it to himself, to be honest. 

He'd meant it to be a simple, chaste kiss, something sweet to remember Johnny by during the long and lonely days to come, but then Johnny, like always, had done something unexpected. He'd backed Peter into that lamp post, and rocked Peter's world to its core.

Peter hadn't even known he could _feel_ that way. That depth of emotion, that dizzying sense of elation that had sent the world spinning away beneath his feet, Peter never would have dreamed it was even possible, not anymore, maybe not ever.

Maybe he _had_ felt like that when Gwen kissed him, once upon a time, but the memory was so distant he could hardly recall.

No, Gwen's kisses had always been sweet and delicate and lovely, like a pale pink rosebud blossoming beneath his lips, the chaste kisses of a youthful love. 

They'd _never_ been like Johnny's.

Johnny's kiss had been a raging, uncontrollable fire, wild and all-consuming. Peter'd never known anything like it.

He hadn't been able to think of anything else since. His lips still burned from where Johnny's had touched them, the scorching hot press of his lips lingering even now.

Peter didn't think he'd ever forget a second of it, even if he could never let himself have it again. It was a spot of bright sunlight, a reminder of warmth and joy and happiness, that he could cling to in the dead of the night, when he was alone in the dark with his memories, his grief, his guilt.

Peter's head shot up at the sound of the doorbell. "You expecting visitors, Aunt May?"

She shook her head, frowning a little. "Now, I wonder who it could be?" she muttered to herself, wiping her hands on her red-and-yellow apron.

Peter trailed behind her, curiosity getting the best of him. He waited in the hallway as she opened the door. 

Peter was rather shocked when he realized that it was Reed Richards who was standing in the doorway, dressed in a casual tweed jacket, a pale blue baby bag, decorated with teddy bears and little trains, slung over his shoulder, hands thrust in his pants pockets. Sue was standing behind him, absolutely stunning in a cerulean blue sundress and stylish black sunglasses, Franklin hoisted high up on her hip. 

And peeking out behind Sue...was MJ.

MJ?! Why was _she_ with—

Peter's eyes widened. _This_ couldn't be good. No part of this was anything _resembling_ good.

Oh god. What the hell had Mary Jane just gone and _done_? Oh god.

"Mrs. Parker, I assume," Reed said, smiling pleasantly at her. "I am—"

"Dr. Richards," Aunt May finished for him, sounding a bit shocked. Peter had to admit it _was_ pretty weird to be seeing Reed Richards standing on his aunt's porch. He looked very out of place standing in Aunt May and Anna's humble little house. He belonged in a magazine on their coffee table or maybe on the screen of their television, but never, never on their front porch. "Of course I know who you are. What seems to be the trouble? Has Peter done anything?"

"No, ma'am," Reed said soothingly. "Nothing like that. My wife and I would appreciate it if we could have a word with you, if you have a moment."

"Yes, of course," Aunt May said hurriedly, moving out of the way and gesturing that they should come inside. "Please, come in."

"Peter, Mary Jane, why don't you wait for us in the kitchen, while we talk to Mrs. Parker?" Sue suggested—in a tone of voice that said it wasn't really a suggestion as much as it was an order—as she walked purposefully towards the living room to which Aunt May had pointed.

Peter didn't like the look on Sue's face. She looked like she meant business, like she was about to go out and beat some Skrulls to a bloody pulp, and it seemed like today that business was Peter, and Peter wasn't ready to fight Sue on whatever this was. Peter wasn't prepared to fight Sue on anything, really. She'd always been just a tad bit scary to him, even when he'd been sixteen and had a monstrously huge crush on her.

"Uh, Mrs. Richards?" MJ said anxiously, watching Peter warily out of the corner of her eye. Heh. She already knew he was pissed. Could probably feel him seething, all the way from over there, behind Reed, where she was hiding. Peter narrowed his eyes at her, just so there'd be no doubt about it. "Please don't leave me alone with him."

Sue stopped, turned, and raised her eyebrows at MJ. "Why on earth not?" she quizzed her. Reed peered down at her too.

MJ gestured at Peter's face. "Look at his _face_!" she hissed. "He has _murder_ face! Don't leave me alone with murder face!"

"I'm _not_ going to murder you," Peter said darkly, heading for the kitchen. "Much."

"Peter _Parker_!" Aunt May barked reproachfully, and Peter didn't even need to turn around to know that she was standing with her hands on her hips, glaring after him the way she had at Uncle Ben when he'd come home empty-handed, having forgotten to pick up the groceries she'd specifically asked for because he'd been busy chatting with the neighbors. "Do _not_ threaten young ladies. I'm sorry, dear, I really don't know what's gotten into him," she told Mary Jane.

"It's okay, May," MJ said. She turned towards the kitchen and cupped her hands around her mouth. "I'm not scared of you, Peter Parker!" she bellowed, too busy being angry at him to be anxious anymore.

"Are you sure you'll be alright?" Peter heard Sue ask.

"Yeah," he heard MJ sigh wearily. "I can handle him. He really doesn't scare me. I know him too well for that. Just. If you hear screaming, I promise that I'm not hurting him much." 

"Mary Jane," Aunt May chided. "Please don't hurt Peter. He's a delicate boy."

Peter heard Mary Jane snort at that, and then the thud of her determined footsteps as she marched into the kitchen after him. 

" _What did you do_?" he hissed, the moment she walked in, advancing on her. "What did you _tell_ them?"

MJ crossed her arms and tilted her chin up at him defiantly, not backing down an inch. "I told them I was worried about you," she said coolly.

Peter was speechless from rage for a moment. " _Why_? Why the _hell_ would you do that to me?" he asked irately.

"Because I _am_ worried about you, and because you need help," she said, undeterred.

"I'm _fine_ ," Peter ground out. "I don't need _anyone_."

"Yeah, you see, but you _do_ ," Mary Jane replied. "And the fact that you can't see that is exactly why you need help. You're so turned around, Petey, you can't even see how far from fine you are."

"You had _no_ right," Peter said sharply. "None at _all_ to tell them any of that. It's _not_ your business."

"You're my _friend_ , of course it's my business!" MJ shouted, and this time she was the one who was angry. Livid, really, by the sound of it. "If you're not taking care of yourself, if you might _hurt_ yourself, it is my job, my _job_ , to make sure you don't!"

"I am _not_ going to hurt myself!" Peter yelled back. "I wouldn't _do_ that!"

"No, of _course_ not," MJ said sharply. "You go out and you let _other_ people hurt you instead. A fist, a knife, a gunshot—what's the difference between that and a razor blade, or a handful of pills, or a bottle of vodka? The end result is the same! You think I haven't _noticed_ that you've been showing up at my place more than ever since you and Johnny argued, with cuts and bruises and broken bones? You hardly  _sleep_ , Peter, you hardly _eat_ , so when you go out at night, you're exhausted and worn-out and not thinking clearly, and you get hurt when you shouldn't. I'm not _stupid_ , Peter, and I'm not _blind_. I can see what you've been doing to yourself, and I _hate_ seeing it. I hate it, Peter, more than anything. It breaks my heart. _You_ break my heart.  _It has to stop_."

Peter's mouth worked as he stared at her speechlessly. He had no idea what to say to any of that.

"That's...not what I'm doing," he said lamely, not sure even he believed that.

Mary Jane harrumphed. "Now who are you lying to? Me, or yourself."

Peter let his eyes drop, away from her penetrating glare.

He didn't know what to say to that either.

* * *

They sat together, waiting at the kitchen table, drinking ice-cold soda out of the can, in tense and uncomfortable silence for what felt like hours but was probably less.

Peter fidgeted. What the hell were they talking about in there?

"PETER BENJAMIN PARKER!" he heard Aunt May bellow from the living room. "Get in here _now_!"

"What did I do?" Peter asked MJ frantically, eyes wide with fear, speaking in hushed tones because Aunt May had the ears of a bat. "What did I _do_?"

Facing down the Green Goblin was a cinch compared to Aunt May when she was angry.

"I don't know," MJ whispered back with a slight shake of her head. "But you better get in there _now_."

"Yeah," Peter said, scrambling to get to the living room.

Oh god. He was about to get lectured by his _mom_ in front of Reed and Sue Richards. _That_ was going to be embarrassing.

* * *

"You...called, Aunt May?" Peter said cautiously, inching into the living room, MJ trailing behind him. God, she was so damn _nosy_!

Aunt May was glaring at him, arms crossed, the way she reserved for when he was really, _really_ in trouble. It was the look he'd been most terrified of when he was a kid.

"I did," she said sharply. She pointed at the sofa. "Sit _down_ , young man. _Now_."

Peter immediately did as he was told, knowing better than to argue when she took that tone. Aunt May loomed over him. 

"What is this that Dr. and Mrs. Richards have been telling me? You've been _lying_ to me about dating that nice boy? For _months_?" she demanded.

Peter froze, eyes widening in terror. "Um," he said, casting his mind around desperately for a way out of this. "Um. I. Was. Uh."

"The _truth_ , young man," she snapped. "Why did you lie?"

"I...you were...so happy...I didn't want to—to make you sad again," Peter said, stumbling over his words. "I didn't want you to worry about me anymore. You've had so many things to worry about—I didn't want to add to it if I could help it, Aunt May. I _hate_ seeing you sad."

"Based on what _they_ have been telling me—" She gestured at Reed and Sue, who were sitting awkwardly on the couch across from them, Mary Jane perched on the armrest next to Sue. "—I _should_ have been worrying about you! This is _unacceptable_ , young man. You do _not_ lie to me again, not for any reason. Am I understood?"

Peter slumped down in his seat. "Yes, ma'am," he said meekly, and resolved _never_ to tell her about Spider-Man.

"They tell me Mary Jane is very worried about you," Aunt May said, sounding disappointed. "How could you not tell me you were having problems, Peter?"

"I...didn't want to worry you," Peter said again. "Besides, she's exaggerating, I'm fine."

"He is _not_ fine," Mary Jane cut in. "I swear, May."

"I believe you, dear," Aunt May assured her. She sat next to Peter on the couch. "Because I can see his face. I know that look in his eyes. I only wonder that I haven't seen it before. I suppose I've been too busy hoping he was as fine as he was pretending to be to notice, and I suppose that's my fault. Peter, dear," she said, curling her hand over his, "Dr. Richards has been very generous. He's offered to pay for you to go to a psychiatrist friend of his."

Peter wrenched his hand away from his aunt's. " _No_ ," he said firmly. "No more psychiatrists, Aunt May. Not happening."

Aunt May and Uncle Ben must have sent him to dozens when he was a kid, worried at his lack of friends, his shyness, and, eventually, at all of the bruises and sprains he came home with, gifts from the sadists who bullied and tortured him daily.

He'd been so very alone then, when he was a child, but he'd been so accustomed to it that he'd hardly minded. He'd never had anyone other than Aunt May and Uncle Ben back then, but they'd loved him so much that they'd been more than enough to ease his solitude.

It was only afterwards, after he'd gained and lost his beloved Gwen, after he'd known what it meant to really belong to someone, that he'd felt the oppressive weight of his solitude more keenly, because, at long last, he'd had something to which to compare it.  

None of the psychiatrists and school counselors Uncle Ben and Aunt May had taken him to had ever helped. Not one. They'd all been so overworked and underpaid, none of them had been able to pay enough attention to him to help. They saw a boy who seemed reasonably well looked after, who wasn't using drugs or in gangs, and they thought that, in comparison, he was fine, and so they focused their attention elsewhere. It had simply made a boy who had already felt himself to be invisible and disliked feel even more so.

And this friend of Dr. Richards', whoever he or she was, definitely wouldn't be able to help him now. There was no point in even trying. Peter was too broken. No one could ever fix him. Why was he the only one who could see that?

"Mr. Parker," Reed interrupted. "Why on earth not? I assure you, Dr. Sinclair is one of the best."

"I am _sick_ of psychiatrists!" Peter shouted. "They _never_ help, and they _always_ just make me feel worse about myself!"

MJ frowned at him. "When have you ever gone to psychiatrists before? I didn't know you had. You've never talked about it."

"His uncle and I sent him to a few when he was younger," Aunt May explained, eyes fixed on Peter, a worried crease between her brows. "We were worried because he didn't have any friends, and because he was being bullied. He seemed so lonely and miserable. Why didn't you tell us you hated them so much, dear?"

"I tried," Peter said. "I _tried_ , and neither of you _listened_. None of them helped me _at all_. They didn't get it! They didn't get _anything_."

"I assure you, that will _not_ be the case with Dr. Sinclair," Reed said smoothly. "She is excellent at what she does. She specializes in the psychology of superheroes, but I think I can talk her into making an exception for you. And I'll pay all of your expenses, of course."

"All due respect, sir," Peter said stubbornly. "I don't want your charity."

"Peter _Parker_ ," Aunt May said sternly, "that was rude. Apologize to Dr. Richards. And I want it understood—you are _going_. You will be at every single one of your appointments, _on time_ , and you will thank Dr. Richards for his kindness. End of discussion."

"I'm _nineteen_ , Aunt May," Peter snapped, not knowing what on earth was possessing him. He'd never talked to Aunt May so disrespectfully in his life, mostly because he'd always been too smart to even try. "You can't _make_ me do anything."

"Young man," Aunt May said, a dangerous edge to her voice, "you will _not_ take that tone with me again. I did _not_ raise you to speak to me that way."

There was a glaring contest after that. Of course Aunt May won.

Neither noticed when MJ slipped out to the kitchen.

"Yes, m'am," Peter mumbled, lowering his eyes and backing down.

"Thank Dr. Richards," she ordered. 

"Thank you, sir," Peter murmured. "It was." He searched for the appropriate word. "Thoughtful."

He knew it really was, knew he should be flattered that Reed and Sue were taking such an interest in him.

"You're welcome, Peter," Reed said quietly, as though he doubted whether Peter meant that.

"If you don't like Dr. Sinclair," Sue jumped in, "we can always find you a different psychiatrist. We don't want you to feel that you don't have a say in this."

"Oh," Peter said. "Well. That's. _Better_ , I guess. Thank you, Sue."

MJ slipped back into the room, phone in her hand.

"Where've _you_ been?" Peter asked, glaring at her suspiciously.

"Oh, nowhere," she said airily.

The front door slammed open.

"Wow," MJ said admiringly, settling down next to Sue again. "That was _fast_. Wasn't that fast, Mrs. R?"

"I...suppose?" Sue said uncertainly.

"What did you do _now_ , bane of my existence?" Peter demanded furiously.

"I called Johnny," MJ said with a shrug.

"You did _what_?!" Peter screeched.

"You're welcome," MJ said cheerfully.

"Peter?" Johnny panted, running into the room, out of breath, and leaning against the doorframe. Peter clenched his hands shut. He wasn't ready to be in a room with Johnny again. He wasn't ready at all. "Are you okay? MJ said something was up."

"I thought you were at that charity fundraiser," Sue said, frowning at him. "Won't they miss you?"

"I was!" Johnny told her defensively. "Ben's still there. I just kind of took off when MJ called me. She said something was wrong with Peter! What was I _supposed_ to do? I just flew straight here." He squinted at Peter. "You look fine. Kinda."

Peter collapsed back against the sofa and buried his head in his hands. "'M not fine," he groaned. "The universe hates me. And it has manifested that hatred in the form of Mary Jane Watson. I don't know why I didn't see it before now."

"One day you'll realize that I'm just doing this because I care about you," MJ informed him, unfazed. 

"Would somebody _please_ tell me what's going on?" Johnny pleaded. 

"They're making me go to a psychiatrist," Peter said bitterly. "In other news, I hate everyone."

Aunt May swatted at his shoulder reproachfully.

"Is it Doc Sinclair?" Johnny asked. "She's great, you'll love her. She helped _me_ a lot, anyhow."

Peter glanced up at him, surprised. “ _You’ve_ been in therapy? Why would _you_ ever have to go to therapy?”

"It's...a long story," Johnny said evasively. Peter got the feeling he _really_ didn't want to talk about it. "But Dr. Sinclair helped me out, and she can help you too."

Peter let that sink in. 

"Johnny," Sue said into the silence, "you and I are going to have a talk later about why you didn't tell us about what was going on with Peter sooner. If you see your friends struggling like this, Johnny, you need to get them help."

"I know," Johnny agreed, looking down guiltily. "MJ and I thought we could handle it, but we were wrong, and then everything just got messy and spiraled out of control, and I'm sorry."

"You're nineteen," Sue reminded him. "You aren't a licensed therapist. You can't handle something like this on your own."

"Yeah, well, I suggested he go to one ages ago, but he said no, and I couldn't exactly toss him over my shoulder and drag him there or anything."

Peter snorted. "I would like to see you try that," he said. "You wouldn't get very far. And I still don't want to go."

"But you will," Aunt May reminded him, her voice firm and sure.

"Yeah," Peter muttered unhappily, staring down at his hands. "Fine."

"Mr. Parker," Reed said hesitantly. "There's...something else." He looked questioningly at Aunt May. "But perhaps this isn't the best time to bring it up."

"We should tell him now, Reed," Aunt May said. "I insist. It needs to be done immediately." She clutched at Peter's bicep. "Just look at my boy's face. _This afternoon_ , Reed."

Reed gave a curt nod of assent. "If you are certain, Mrs. Parker, we are all, I am sure, willing to accommodate you."

"Oh no," Peter said, not liking wherever this was heading. "What's going on?"

"We've talked it over with your aunt," Reed said hesitantly. "And we'd like to invite you to come stay with us for the summer."

Johnny pumped both fists in the air. " _Yes_! Are you guys _serious_? This is awesome! Pete, you _gotta_ come, we do _awesome_ things over the summer! Reed takes us to cool beaches and on trips and stuff, and we're going to California in a few weeks— c'mon, Pete, you gotta say yes, it'll be fun!"

" _Why_?" Peter demanded hotly. "So you can all keep an eye on me? I don't _need_ you all to look after me! I am not a _child_! And I don't need your pity _or_ your charity!"

"Peter _Parker!_ " Aunt May began.

"No," Reed said calmly, raising a hand to stop her. "It's alright. We know that, Peter. We just...want to help you. It doesn't mean we think less of you, Peter. I know I have grown rather fond of you over the last few months. I would be quite upset if I discovered something had happened to you when we could have stopped it."

"Everybody needs to stop," Peter said darkly. "I'm not a damsel in distress. I don't need to be _saved_."

"We know, Peter," Sue replied soothingly, and Peter had the distinct impression that Sue'd had more than a little experience dealing with a stubborn teenager. "We just want to help you while you recover from what happened to you. We don't see it as saving you, just helping. It's different."

"Peter," MJ cut in, "it was my idea. Just trust me for once, and say yes."

"Why on _earth_ would you think this was a good idea?" Peter demanded.

"Because you hate your apartment," MJ said simply. "Duh."

Peter started to protest, but MJ lifted her hand up to stop him. "For the last time, I'm not stupid," she said. "Don't bother lying to me." She started ticking things off on her fingers. "You spend more nights passed out on my couch than you do in your own bed. You never want to hang out at your place anymore, even if I'm with you. You hate it because when you're there, you're alone, and when you're alone, you get lost inside your own head, and it isn't good for you, especially in the state you're in."

"My state is fine," Peter lied. "I like my place fine. I don't want to live with the Richardses."

His lie wasn't too convincing, unfortunately. He really _did_ hate his apartment. At best, it was a dank and suffocating prison.

"Peter," Aunt May said reproachfully, "why didn't you tell me you felt that way? We would have looked for a new apartment for you."

"I can't afford one," Peter said truthfully. "I don't have the money."

"So stay with us," Johnny said, like it was the easiest and most obvious thing in the world. He turned to Mary Jane and gave her a bright smile. "It's a genius idea, MJ."

No, it wasn't. It really, really wasn't. It was the worst idea ever, from where Peter was standing.

Being around Johnny 24/7? _Not_ a good idea.

Peter'd been around him for maybe fifteen minutes last night, and it'd ended in a kiss. What would happen if Peter had to be around him all the time? How the hell would Peter manage to make himself keep his damn hands off of Johnny?

He wouldn't. It would be _impossible_.

One way or another, he'd talk himself into thinking it was okay to kiss Johnny one more time, and then one more, and next thing he knew, he'd look up and they'd be dating, and _Gwen_...oh god, his promise to Gwen would be forgotten, and he would have failed Gwen in every conceivable way, Gwen, who was the woman he'd loved more than he'd ever loved anything in his life.

"I can't," Peter said firmly.

"Pete," Johnny said hesitantly. "If this is because of you and me—well, don't say no because of that. I—I'll back off, I swear. Nothing will happen between us. I won't start anything or—or say anything that a totally platonic BFF wouldn't say. Swear. I mean, when have I ever? Getting you better is all that matters right now. The other stuff—it's not important compared to that."

Johnny wasn't the problem. Peter knew he could trust Johnny to back off. No, the problem was Peter, because all he'd been thinking about since Johnny walked into the room was how much he wanted to kiss him senseless, and how could he deal with this all day, every day? He'd crack, eventually, and then where would he be?

If recent events had proven anything, it was that Peter's self-control was virtually nonexistent where Johnny Storm was involved.

"I know that, Johnny," Peter said. "Really, I do."

"Then what's the problem?" Johnny asked. "I _want_ you to stay with us, so that can't be it."

"I know that too," Peter said.

"Then what?"

Peter couldn't bring himself to tell him the real reason, especially not with Reed and Aunt May and Sue and MJ staring at them curiously. "I just can't, okay?"

"Is this a Gwen thing?" MJ interrupted. "It's always a Gwen thing."

"Sort of," Peter admitted.

"Does this have to do with whatever happened last night that neither of you will talk about?" MJ guessed, and she was shockingly close to the truth.

Peter felt his face heat up, and he looked determinedly—and silently—down at the floor.

"Well," MJ said wryly, "that was a yes."

"I don't get it," Johnny said, scrunching up his nose. "What does _that_ have to do with _this_ , Pete, if it's not any of the things I said?"

"Nothing," Peter said firmly, shaking his head and still not looking at anyone. "Nothing at all."

Johnny sighed and rolled his eyes. "MJ," he pleaded. "Help?"

"Don't look at me," MJ said, holding up both hands. "I don't even know what happened."

"Stop being so goddamn _nosy_ , MJ," Peter snapped, springing to his feet. "It's none of your _business_ , just like _this_ is none of your business. Just keep the _hell_ out of my life!"

MJ said something in reply, but Peter didn't hear. Apparently he'd gotten up too fast, because his side was throbbing so badly he could hardly stand it, and suddenly all of the air had left the room.

Peter pressed a hand to his side, wheezing the way he had when he'd been young and had regular asthma attacks, like he couldn't catch a breath no matter how hard he tried. "Oh no," he said weakly, when everything started to swim, and then the floor was rushing up at him, and everything went black.

* * *

Peter didn't know where he was. He definitely wasn't at Aunt May's anymore. The homey smell of lavender and old lace and chocolate chip cookies that permeated her house was entirely absent here, wherever he was.

No, this place smelled of antiseptic and needles and bandages. A hospital, maybe?

Dammit, Peter despised hospitals, so very, very much. He'd been in and out of them far too often as a small child to bear them any kind of love, back when he'd had half a dozen serious ailments, any one of which was severe enough to send him to the emergency room fairly regularly.

Peter could hear a murmur of voices, the quiet beeping of a heart monitor, and metal tools clinking in a tray. 

That was definitely Aunt May's voice, and MJ's, and Johnny's, and Reed was chiming in every now and then too.

And someone had done something to his side, because the pain had eased significantly. Painkillers, probably. They wouldn't last long with his Spidey metabolism, but Peter couldn't tell Reed that.

He tried to make his eyes flutter open, but the lights were too bright and he flinched.

"I think he's waking up, Mrs. Parker," he heard Reed say from somewhere on his right.

Then there was a hand, wiry, wrinkled, but with a great deal of strength hidden in it yet, threading through his hair. Peter knew its touch so very well—Aunt May's, of course.

"Aun' May," he said drowsily. "Wha' happened?"

"You passed out, dear," Aunt May said, and she sounded so shaken Peter couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt. "Nearly smashed my coffee table to bits. You would have, if Dr. Richards hadn't caught you."

Peter finally managed to wrench his eyes opened, and found himself staring at the worried faces of Reed, Aunt May, Johnny, and MJ as they crowded around his hospital bed.

"'M not in a hospital, am I?" he asked.

"No, Peter," Reed said gently, pulling off his rubber gloves. "You're in the medical bay in the Baxter Building. I'm afraid I had to rebreak your ribs—whoever set them originally didn't know what they were doing, Peter, because they were healing incorrectly. Nearly punctured a lung." That would've been Mary Jane, last night, but he didn't need to tell Reed that. "You'll likely need to remain in bed for a few days."

Peter groaned. "Bed rest? I _hate_ bed rest!"

"Peter," Aunt May said, but it was all she needed to.

"Fine," he muttered, annoyed. "I'll be good and stay in bed."

"How did you get hurt, Peter?" she said, clutching his hand tightly. "Who did this to you?"

"I...got mugged," Peter lied, feeling a slow blush rising to his cheeks. "I just...was embarrassed to tell anyone. Didn't want anyone to know what'd happened."

"I take it you didn't file a police report?" Reed said, arms folded across his chest, leaning back against the table the tools and bandages and gauze were spread across. 

Peter shook his head. "I thought I'd be fine, honest. It was just a couple of punches to the ribs, and they didn't really take much. I didn't have much for them to take."

Reed sighed. "Peter, with injuries of this sort, you should always check with a medical professional, even if you don't report it to the police. This could have gotten quite serious. It nearly did. If you'd been alone when you collapsed, things could have gone rather badly for you."

"Yes, sir," Peter said meekly, already worrying about how he was going to explain how quickly he healed.

"Peter, especially after what just happened, I am very serious about wanting you to accept Dr. Richards' very generous offer to let you stay here," Aunt May said firmly. "I don't believe you have an option, young man."

"But, _Aunt May_..." Peter whined.

She held up a hand. "No, young man, I will hear none of it. You are staying here. I don't want you going back to that apartment, do you hear me?"

Peter heaved a sigh and struggled to keep from rolling his eyes. "Yes, ma'am," he said. 

"Yay!" MJ said, grinning, clapping her hands together happily. "I win again, Parker."

"You mean you're staying?" Johnny asked excitedly, clutching at the blankets by Peter's left leg. 

Peter nodded, and this time he did roll his eyes. At both of them, but mostly at MJ.

"Awesome," Johnny said with a huge, very pleased grin, "that's _awesome_. We'll have tons of fun, I swear." He reached down to squeeze Peter's knee reassuringly.

The beeping of the heart rate monitor embarrassingly tripled.

Peter froze at that, eyes widening, and so did everyone else in the room. They all turned simultaneously to peer at the heart rate monitor, except Peter, who stared very fixedly at the wall opposite him and focused all of his energy on making his heart stop beating so fast.

It didn't work, because Johnny's hand was still there, on his knee, and tiny little currents of electricity were radiating out from it and sending Peter's pulse racing, no matter what he did.

Peter could feel his face turning a number of interesting variations of the color red. 

"Well," MJ said laughingly, "isn't _that_ interesting, Mr. I Absolutely Am _Not_ Attracted To Johnny?"

Peter leveled the finest glare he could muster on her, whose effectiveness, he admitted, was probably undercut by the redness of his face.

Reed ducked his head at his reaction, surreptitiously covering his mouth with his hand. Peter had the distinct impression he was hiding a smile.

"My goodness," said Aunt May, pressing a hand to her chest, a small smile playing around her mouth. "That's very sweet, Peter dear."

That was when Peter decided to give up pretending he hadn't noticed what was going on, groaned, and buried his head in his hands. "The universe hates me. Why does anybody even _doubt_ this fact anymore?"

"Wait, wait, wait!" MJ cautioned. "We need to test this to make sure. Like good scientists. Right, Dr. R?"

"Yes," Reed replied in a strangled voice. "I think it's very important to test your hypotheses."

"You see, Peter?" MJ told him, sounding very satisfied with herself. "You aren't the only one who's good at science."

Reed whirled around at that, leaning on the small table, shoulders shaking, the sounds of his muffled laughter perfectly audible to Peter's ears.

Well, at least someone was enjoying this, because Peter sure wasn't.

"Move your hand, Storm," MJ ordered.

"Do I have to?" Johnny said, mouth twisting.

" _Yes_ ," MJ hissed, poking at his shoulder. "We need to prove that it's because he likes you."

"But he does, so what's the point?" Johnny countered.

" _Science_ is the point," MJ said. "Now move your hand."

Johnny rolled his eyes but complied. 

They all watched the heart rate monitor intently, except Peter, who was covering his face with a well-placed hand, and Reed, who was too busy pretending he wasn't laughing at Johnny, Peter, and MJ's antics.

Mortifyingly, Peter's heart rate went back to normal fairly rapidly. 

"Now let's see what happens when _I_ do the same thing," MJ said, putting her hand on Peter's knee. 

Nothing happened at all. Peter's heart didn't speed up in the slightest, dammit.

"You again, Johnny," MJ said, shoving at Johnny's shoulder. 

"Oh, come _on_!" Peter shouted, tearing his hand away from his much-too-red face. "Please stop! _Whydoyouenjoytorturingmesomuch_?"

"Not torture, Petey, _science_ ," she chided infuriatingly calmly. "I thought you _liked_ science. Or is that just when people _aren't_ using it to prove that you have a crush on your boyfriend?"

"He _isn't_ my boyfriend!" Peter hissed. "And this _isn't_ science."

"If you say so," she replied airily, and Peter really wanted to strangle her. "Go on," she told Johnny. "Hand on knee, buddy, I know you can do it."

"Maybe I shouldn't, princess," Johnny hedged. "He's getting a little overexcited, and he did just faint like an hour ago."

"He'll be fine," MJ said dismissively. "If he was in any danger of fainting, Dr. R would've stopped us ages ago. So stop whining and do it."

Johnny put his hand on Peter's knee again, and, of course, Peter's heart rate skyrocketed again.

Oh god. This was _mortifying_. Peter wished he could bury his head in the pillows behind him, or maybe steal Sue's invisibility powers somehow. 

He did, however, decide that heart rate monitors were now his mortal enemies, right along with the Green Goblin, Doc Ock, and Mary Jane Watson.

MJ held up her hand for Johnny to high-five. "Science achieved," she said, nodding sagely. "Crush irrefutably proven."

"I hate both of you," Peter said, folding his arms across his chest and wishing he could make his face stop being so red.

"Apparently you hate one of us less than the other," MJ said, snickering a little.

Peter scowled at her wrathfully. "Mortal enemy," he told her. "You are now my mortal enemy."

"Aw," MJ cooed, flattered, pressing both hands to her chest. "I've always wanted to be someone's mortal enemy."

"Mission accomplished, then," Peter snapped.

"Mrs. Parker," Reed said chivalrously, face still a little too pink from all of the laughing he'd just been doing, "why don't you and I go upstairs and talk over the details of Peter's stay here, so we can let the children have their fun?"

"Yes," Aunt May said, although she looked a little reluctant to leave Peter. "That sounds like a good idea." She turned to Peter and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "I'll be upstairs, dear, if you need anything."

"Thanks, Aunt May," Peter replied, busy glaring at MJ and Johnny. "Can you just do me a favor and take those two jerks with you?" He gestured at the two scourges of his life.

"Nope," Johnny said, shaking his head and hopping onto the wide hospital bed next to Peter, which forced Peter to scoot over enough to make room for him. "I am staying _right_ here." He stretched out next to Peter, settling in and making it clear that he wasn't going anywhere. His eyes flicked down to Peter's bare chest. "Believe me, there is _nowhere_ else I would rather be. Not even a swimsuit competition, so you should be really flattered."

MJ jumped up onto the other end of the bed, one leg dangling over the side, trapping Peter in place so he couldn't even try to run if he wanted to. He figured he probably would at some point during the upcoming conversation.

She flashed a wicked, predatory smile at Peter. "I'm staying too," she said, voice deceptively pleasant. "We have so many _lovely_ things to talk about." She wrapped her hands around her knee and fluttered her eyelashes at Peter.

It was terrifying.

Peter looked back at Aunt May, eyes wide with panic. "Help?" he pleaded.

Aunt May smiled at him affectionately. "You'll be fine, dear." To MJ and Johnny, she said, "You two be kind to him now, do you hear me?"

"Yes, ma'am," MJ said, winking at Peter where Aunt May couldn't see her. "We will be perfect angels. You can trust us."

"Yep," Johnny agreed, doing his best to look innocent. "Angelic, that's us."

Somehow Peter doubted that very much.

The door clicked shut behind Aunt May and Reed, and Johnny and MJ both turned to Peter, all sunny smiles. He didn't like the way they were looking at him. He didn't like it at all.

"Now," Peter said hurriedly, "before either of you say anything, I would just like to point out that I have been going through a really rough time, and also," he pressed a hand to his bandaged ribs, "I am currently seriously physically injured, so...be nice to me?"

"Aw," MJ said, clucking, as she launched herself forward, curling her body around Peter's, but careful to avoid pressing against his damaged ribs. "It's okay, Petey, I forgive you for being a jerk." 

"Oh," Peter said, blushing a little but pleasantly surprised. "Okay then."

MJ gestured encouragingly for Johnny to say something.

"What?" Johnny said irritably. "I forgave him ages ago, he knows that."

"Then...neither of you are going to yell at me for being a jerk?" Peter asked suspiciously. He found that pretty difficult to believe.

"Nope," Johnny said. "No yelling. You're emotionally fragile right now, Pete, of course we're not gonna yell at you. But, you know, if you want to talk or anything, we're both here for you, buddy."

Peter nodded. He decided he _wasn't_ going to be taking them up on that. "Maybe later," he lied.

Johnny shrugged. "Suits me." He propped himself up and started searching for something. "Now where'd Reed leave the stupid remote? Ah! Found it." He reached over and yanked it out of the nightstand. "He always leaves it in hard to find places," he confided. "It's pretty annoying. I think he doesn't like the TV shows I watch." He smirked. "Maybe I should just watch soap operas all the time. I have a theory that he secretly loves them."

"Reed Richards," Peter said flatly. "Smartest guy on the planet. Secretly loves soap operas. I don't buy it."

"You've never heard him get all lovey-dovey around my sister," Johnny muttered darkly. "Although I guess you might now. Just warning you, it's pretty gross. For a lot of reasons. Fight the urge to barf, Pete, that's the only advice I can give you."

"Whaddya wanna watch, Torch?" MJ prompted as Johnny flicked the TV on, and Peter's Spidey sense practically started going off. She was up to something. He knew that tone of voice and the look on her face too well to think otherwise.

"I dunno, princess," Johnny said, and it was pretty obvious to Peter that he was just playing along. Had they set...whatever this was up earlier, while he was passed out? Low. That was _low_ , taking advantage of his unconsciousness that way, to plot against him. "What do _you_ wanna watch?"

"How about a reality show?" MJ said, flicking a hand at the television. "Doesn't matter which one, any will do."

"Guys?" Peter said, suspecting there was no point in even saying it. "I don't really like reality shows."

MJ patted his shoulder. "We know, Tiger," she said sympathetically.

Peter sighed. "This is it, isn't it?" he asked. "How you two have chosen to punish me. You're going to make me watch—" he wrinkled his nose disdainfully, "— _reality shows_ the whole time I'm stuck in this bed."

"Yep," Johnny said cheerfully, leaning back against the bed and letting his head fall against Peter's bare shoulder. Peter could feel it against his skin, the pull of the muscles in Johnny's cheek when his lips curved upwards in a smile at the sound of Peter's heart rate monitor beeping more quickly. Peter wondered if it was that smile he loved, the one that made Johnny glow, and he wished with all his heart that he could see it again. "For a week. As far as punishments go, you have to admit it's a pretty nice one."

Peter stared up at the television screen. Ten seconds and he already wanted to claw his eyes out. "We can debate that," he muttered miserably.

Johnny chuckled. 

"Serves you right, Petey," MJ informed him, lifting her head and smacking a kiss against his cheek. 

Peter had to admit, though, that lying there, with MJ curled around him protectively, and Johnny's warm body pressed next to his, head resting on Peter's shoulder, it actually wasn't that bad. 

He'd missed this. 

Peter pushed away all of his worries about his relationship with Johnny, all of his feelings of guilt and hopelessnes, and opted instead to focus on this, right here, right now. Because this? This was nice.

Neither of them really expecting anything from him, for once, just hanging out like they used to, before this whole mess with Johnny had begun—it was nice.

Peter shut his eyes and let himself bask in the warmth of their affection and friendship, let it course through veins that, even just a few hours ago, had felt cold and dead. 

It was comforting. And best yet, Peter could feel, fluttering in his chest, something that felt suspiciously like hope.

* * *

When she felt Peter's breath even out and his heartbeat slow, MJ propped herself up on elbow and peered at his face.

"Aw," she cooed. "He looks so cute when he's sleeping."

Johnny didn't lift his head, mostly because Peter's was resting on top of his. Peter'd not-very-subtly let it drop down until his cheek was pressed against Johnny's hair.

Uh, yeah, Pete, of _course_ everyone in this room believes that it was just crazy random chance that you wound up leaning towards Johnny's side and not MJ's.

"Yeah," he whispered. "Totally cute."

MJ squinted at him. "You don't happen to know where there are any permanent markers nearby, do you?" 

"Over there, probably," Johnny whispered, pointing at a chest of drawers where Reed kept medical stuff. "Why?"

MJ carefully uncurled herself from around Peter and started padding towards where he'd pointed. 

"I'm gonna draw on him," MJ whispered over her shoulder, smirking as she started rooting through the drawer quietly. "He was a real stinker to me this morning, so he kinda deserves it. Don't worry, I won't draw anything mean. I figure a couple of hearts with your initials in them is punishment enough. Actually, now that I'm thinking about it, how about a big one, right over his heart? With an arrow sticking through it. And your name right in the middle."

Johnny snorted. "He's _so_ not gonna like that."

"Duh," MJ said, twirling the permanent marker she'd found in her fingers and grinning wickedly at Johnny. "That's kinda the whole point."

She got back onto the bed, trying to jostle Peter as little as possible. "What do you think about me drawing a curly mustache on his face?"

Johnny huffed out a laugh against Peter's shoulder. "I think he'll scream at you if you do that, is what I think."

"How'll he even notice?" MJ countered. "There're no mirrors in here."

"He'll notice," Johnny said. "It's Pete. He's pretty smart, you know. Besides, Mrs. P'll probably tell him."

"Aw," MJ teased. "Look at you, bragging about your boyfriend."

"We really aren't dating, you know," Johnny informed her. "Peter wasn't kidding."

MJ shrugged, unconcerned. "I give him a month before he breaks down and dates you, tops. If you come up with lots of excuses not to wear a shirt around him, I give him less than that. Less than _that_ if you do that pouty thing with your mouth that he likes. Oh! And do your sexy walk too," she suggested.

"What pouty thing?" Johnny said, frowning. "I don't do a pouty thing. And I don't have a sexy walk either. That's just how I walk."

MJ shot him a look. "Uh-huh," she said disbelievingly. "Sure you don't. And Peter definitely doesn't like that pouty thing you don't do. Or your walk that isn't sexy, and that you definitely never practiced in front of a mirror."

She winked conspiratorially at him and bent her head to start drawing the heart on Peter's chest, the long strands of her crimson hair pooling on Peter's stomach as she leaned over him.

Everything in the room was quiet, except for the sounds of the television and the rasp of MJ's marker against Peter's skin. 

Johnny mulled over what MJ had just told him.

"You really think he'll be dating me in a month?" Johnny asked, trying to sound as casual as he could to hide the fact that it wasn't.

MJ's marker halted in its path. "Hell yes," she said, smiling up at him reassuringly. "Don't you worry, you'll be able to kiss that face as much as you want soon. On my word as his best friend. Well, one of them, anyways." She smirked down at her handiwork. "Who knows? Maybe it'll happen so fast you'll get to kiss him right on his curly mustache."

Johnny snorted and watched silently as MJ began drawing smaller hearts and daisies around the larger heart that had his name in it. 

Maybe he should find some cotton balls to stick in his ears, because there were definitely going to be some ear-shattering screams when Peter woke up and realized what MJ'd done.

* * *

Peter drifted awake several hours later to the sounds of Johnny and MJ laughing about something on the television, the rustle of a bag of chips, and the unmistakable scent of pizza.

His stomach grumbled, so he cracked an eye open. "Pizza?" he said hopefully.

"Hey!" Johnny cheered, turning to peer down at him, pizza hanging out of his hand. "Look who's up!"

Peter reached out and tried to steal Johnny's pizza. MJ batted his hand away.

"Nope, Tiger, can't let you do that," she told him. "Yes, there's pizza, but no, you can't have any."

"What?" Peter croaked indignantly. "Why not? Is it because you're both secretly supervillains sent to torture me with pizza?"

"Reed's orders, man," Johnny said sympathetically. He leaned over and pulled up a bowl of cold chicken soup from the side table. " _This_ is yours."

Peter made an unhappy sound as he took the bowl from Johnny. He stared longingly at the pizza. Was that  _pepperoni_  pizza? Peter  _loved_  pepperoni pizza! "Come on, guys," he pleaded, "let me have some pizza, I swear I won't tell anyone!"

"No can do, Pete," Johnny said, shaking his head. "Reed was _very_ adamant about this."

"But—" Peter complained.

"Nope," MJ said, pressing her fingers to his lips to silence him. "Get better first, eat pizza later."

Peter sighed and nodded.

MJ took her fingers away and took a giant bite of her pizza. "Mmm," she said mischievously, waggling her eyebrows at Peter. "This pizza's _really_ good, isn't it, Johnny?"

"So good," Johnny agreed, taking a bite of his own. 

Peter gave them both positively withering glares as he picked up his spoon. "You're both terrible people," he informed them. "Torturing wounded people is _low_."

He was distracted by the sight of black lines on his chest. "What the—?" he said, craning his neck to peer down at his left pectoral. 

It was covered in hearts and flowers and Johnny's initials, and someone had written "Peter Storm" with hearts around it, and underneath all of that was "MJ ROCKS!!!" in all caps. There was also a pretty lousy drawing of a tiger. Unsurprisingly, it was all in MJ's handwriting.

 _Peter was going to kill her slowly with fire._  Maybe he could talk Johnny into helping him.

He glared up at her, fuming, only to find her twirling a permanent marker in her fingers. 

"Something bothering you, Tiger?" she asked innocently. 

"You _drew_ on my _chest_ while I was _sleeping_?" he asked indignantly. 

"Now, you can't actually  _prove_ it was me," MJ said, still twirling the marker. "You were asleep at the time. Coulda been Ben or someone, you don't know."

"It says "MJ ROCKS" _right there_!" Peter countered, pointing at what was as good as a signature. 

"I do rock, lots of people think that," MJ said, undeterred. "Like I said, anyone coulda done it."

Peter was speechless with rage. "Johnny!" he bellowed. " _You_ were awake! It was _her_ , right?"

"Oh no," Johnny said, raising both hands. "You guys keep me out of this. I am _way_ too smart to get involved in family squabbles."

"She is _not_ my family!" Peter roared.

"Uh-huh," Johnny said, ducking his head and picking up his pizza. "Whatever you say. It's just...you know, your aunts, who are pretty much your moms, do _live_ together and all."

"What the hell is _that_ supposed to mean?" Peter said, outraged.

Johnny squinted at him. "Um, nothing," he said, shaking his head and rolling his eyes a little. "Absolutely nothing, Pete. I don't mean anything by it."

Peter couldn't even _begin_ to fathom what Johnny was implying.

"C'mon, Petey," MJ said placatingly, patting Peter's hand. "You were a jerk to me this morning, I drew on you, now we're even."

"You're forgetting that you  _kissed_ my—" he snarled, before he caught himself.

Johnny's head shot up at that. "Your what, Pete?" he prodded.

"Johnny," he replied. "I meant Johnny."

"Suuure you did," MJ said skeptically. 

"My point still stands, I was a jerk because you were a jerk first," Peter said loftily. 

"You were more of one, though. I was _helping_ , and you were just being unnecessarily mean to me," MJ said, suddenly serious. "You _really_ freaked me out, Petey, for the record. Why do you think Reed and Sue took me so seriously? I was practically hysterical when I turned up at the Baxter Building looking for Johnny."

Peter felt a pang of guilt at her revelation. "Fine," he muttered. "Fine then. We're even."

MJ's eyes flicked to his mouth for some strange reason. "Yup," she said, looking like she was trying hard not to laugh. "Totally even."

Peter figured he should probably find a mirror and figure out what she'd done to his face. He doubted whether he was going to like it much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone for all of the wonderful comments you've been leaving! It is honestly the best part of writing this fic, and I look forward so much to hearing what you all have to say about each chapter!
> 
> Feel free to come bug me on [tumblr](http://timelordsandladies.tumblr.com)!


	12. Adjustments

"Pete," Johnny said for the third time as he knocked on Peter's door. "You ever gonna come out of there, buddy?"

He wasn't really expecting an answer. Peter hadn't answered any of the other times he'd tried to talk to him today. Or throughout the past three days or so, ever since Reed let him out of the med bay. 

Maybe Peter was living in the same house now, but things weren't much different. Peter stubbornly kept to himself most of the time. Johnny'd barely seen him at all, and when he did, no matter how nice and friendly he tried to be, Peter was--standoffish. Withdrawn. _Difficult_.

Johnny suspected he'd been sneaking out to go Spideying behind everyone's back, despite the fact that he'd given Mary Jane his solemn word of honor that he'd stop for awhile, at least. But Johnny had no proof, so there wasn't really much he could do about it.

He was going to be  _livid_  if it was true. He'd already decided that much. Pete was in no condition to Spidey--Johnny's conversations with Mary Jane about what had been going on the last few weeks had made that abundantly clear.

Just generally, the guy seemed... _off_. Much too reckless and far too angry--at himself, at everyone else--all of which only made him more prone to getting injured than he already had been.

At the very _least_ Johnny should be out there with him, watching his back, but with the way things were between them--Peter doing his best to keep Johnny at arm's length--that wasn't very likely to happen. 

"Pete," he said again. "We're having dinner. Sue wants you to come downstairs. If you don't come willingly now, she's just going to haul you down there herself, and I don't think you'd like that. There may be forcefields involved, Pete. Do you wanna be carried downstairs in an invisible forcefield? I don't think you do. Really, it's more humiliating than it sounds, buddy."

Again there was no answer. Because Pete wasn't there or because he was being stupid and stubborn?

"Okay, buddy," Johnny sighed. "Have it your way. I'm gettin' Sue."

* * *

"Anything?" Sue asked when she saw Johnny walk into the dining room. Johnny's long face was answer enough.

"Nope," he said. "Nope. Not a peep outta him, sis."

"Alright," Sue said, putting down the dishes she was setting the table with. "That's it. We need to check on him. He hasn't come out since yesterday evening."

"I know," Johnny said glumly. 

"And that was only because Mary Jane stopped by," Sue continued.

"Know that too," Johnny said. "He only ever talks to her. Or Mrs. P."

"He needs to eat something," Sue decided.

"He's probably been eating Cheetos and those fruit pies." Johnny shrugged. "He loves that stuff."

Probably hot dogs by the bucketful too, when he went out Spideying. That sounded like Pete.

"He needs to eat something healthy, then," Sue corrected, undeterred. "This behavior is not very healthy either."

"Yeah, well," Johnny said, "he doesn't see Doc Sinclair for the first time till Monday."

That had been the soonest she'd been able to squeeze him in. Reed hadn't been lying about her popularity--her schedule was booked. They'd been lucky to get a spot at all. If it hadn't been for Reed's influence, they probably wouldn't have.

"You think he'll really go?" Sue inquired, momentarily distracted. "I'm not going to have to  _make_  him go, am I? That would just get unpleasant, and I don't really know him that well."

"He promised his aunt," Johnny said. "So he'll go. She said she'd stop by and go with him the first time anyhow, so he's definitely going. Pete won't be able to say no to her. She's wily."

"Good," Sue said, sounding relieved. "That's good." She straightened her dress. "Time to go deal with a surly teenager, I guess," she sighed. "Oh joy. This is my favorite part of parenting."

"Better you than me," Johnny said wryly.

He followed her upstairs.

* * *

"Peter," Sue said, with a sharp knock at his door. "I'm coming in. You've been in there too long. We're worried."

No answer.

She tried the doorknob, but it was locked. "Peter," she insisted. "I need you to open this door now."

There was no answer. 

She frowned at Johnny. "We need to open this  _now_. It could be his ribs again. Run downstairs and get me the master key, little brother."

Johnny nodded and did as his sister told him.

* * *

When they finally got the door open, they found Peter pretending to be asleep.

Johnny knew he was just faking. He hadn't even had time to close the window when he'd climbed in. It was still wide open, curtains blowing in the breeze.

Plus, he wasn't wearing a shirt, and Peter always wore one when he slept. Johnny was pretty sure that if he checked, Peter'd be wearing the bottom part of his Spidey suit under those blankets. 

And if all of that wasn't proof enough, the guilty look on Peter's face when Sue flicked the lights on sure was. 

Sue gasped in horror when she saw his face. There was one hell of a gash on the left side, right above his eyebrow. 

Johnny rolled his eyes. Peter was _such_ an idiot sometimes. Johnny hated it when he was, and he hated seeing him hurt even more.

"Peter," she said, rushing over to examine his face. "What on earth happened?"

"I, uh, tripped," he lied, letting her tilt his face towards the light, "and fell. Hit my head."

"You fell? Why didn't you tell us?" Sue demanded. "You should have told us. Your ribs are still recovering." His ribs were completely fine by now, had been for days, thanks to his Spidey healing factor, but Sue didn't know that. "Reed is going to need to take a look at this Peter."

"I didn't tell you because I was, uh, embarrassed?" Peter tried. "Uh. Because I was clumsy. It was. Um. My stupid fault."

Oh, come _on_. How could Sue not tell he was lying? That was the worst lying Johnny'd ever heard in his life.

"Downstairs," Sue ordered. "Now." She walked purposefully out of the door, clearly expecting Johnny and Peter to follow.

Instead, Johnny strolled over to Peter's bed and pulled the top of Peter's Spidey suit out from underneath the covers. He gave Peter a look that told him exactly how unhappy he was about all of this.

Peter didn't seem to care at all. "Johnny, do _not_ tell Mary Jane," he ordered. "She's just gonna be upset. She might yell, and there's really no point, okay? So don't tell her."

"Too late," Johnny said, holding up his phone. "I already texted her." It chimed as he got a reply from her. "Oh, look. She says she'll be here in twenty minutes, buddy. I'd start thinking of excuses, if I were you. They'd better be amazing. Quite a pair of lungs that girl's got."

Peter let himself fall back against the bed. "This is the  _worst_ ," he groaned, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes. "She's gonna be really pissed. You've gotta help me out, pal."

"Don't kid yourself,  _pal_ ," Johnny said coldly. "I'm pissed too. Change out of your suit, and get downstairs fast, or Sue  _will_  be back, and this time she  _will_  drag you there herself."

He slammed the door shut behind him.

* * *

"Where the _hell_ is that _jerk_?" Mary Jane demanded, the second she got out of the elevator.

She'd been at a  _party_  that she'd been looking forward to for  _weeks_ , that her agent (she had an agent now!) had arranged for her to be invited to. He'd gone on and on about how important it was, because it was supposed to help land her modeling gigs. Increase her visibility, which would maybe land her a part in a play.

No chance of that, now that she'd had to duck out early to keep an eye on Peter.

Her agent would probably quit on her too, and she'd worked hard for this.

Did Peter give a damn about any of this? Probably not. Too busy kicking bad guys in the face.

Man, Mary Jane really wanted to kick _him_ in the face right about now.

"In the dining room," Johnny said. "Reed's looking him over."

"Just a cut-up face?" she checked.

"Looks like it," Johnny said, before amending it to, "This time, anyhow. But he's doing it again. That's why I called you. You told me to call you if he was."

"I know," she said. "It's okay."

Johnny's eyes flicked down to her dress. "It's just--it looks like you were at a party, princess."

"I was," Mary Jane said curtly. It had been an important party, too. "But this is more important."

"I know," Johnny agreed. "I'm pretty pissed at him for sneaking off behind our backs like this."

"And after he promised not to," Mary Jane said. "That's what's really got _me_ steamed, anyways."

* * *

 

Mary Jane followed as Johnny led her to the med bay. She supposed she'd better get used to seeing it. Looked like she was going to be in there pretty damn often, thanks to a certain Webheaded moron.

Peter rolled his eyes when he saw her from the bed he was leaning back on, arms crossed. Mary Jane's eyes went immediately to the pristine white bandage that was taped to his forehead.

Reed and Sue were off in the corner, talking quietly. Probably about Peter. Judging by the kind of surly look on his face, Mary Jane would bet good money that they'd given Peter a little talking-to about personal health and safety. Good for them.

Mary Jane wanted to chew him out then and there, but she bit down on her anger. She couldn't talk about his Spideying in front of Mr. and Mrs. Richards, after all.

"Oh," Sue said, surprised. "Mary Jane, why are you here?"

"Johnny called me," she said, as she marched straight over to Peter. "We need to talk," she told him, arms crossed. "And I mean  _now_."

"Oh," Peter said, sinking down a little. "But, uh, we're eating dinner soon, right, Mrs. R?"

"Ben's not done with it yet. Says it'll be another twenty minutes," Sue replied. "You can go off and talk, if you like. But I expect you in the dining room when he's done, young man, and I expect you to clean your plate. Don't make me call your aunt."

Peter sighed and rolled his eyes. "Yes, ma'am," he said.

"Mary Jane, you're welcome to stay too," Sue said. "If you'd like."

"Thanks," Mary Jane replied, busy scowling down at Peter. "I'll stay. Someone has to keep an eye on the idiot here."

"I am  _not_ \--" Peter began.

Mary Jane cut him off. "Shut up.  _Now_. Follow me. You too, Flamebrain."

She marched off towards the elevator. She heard Peter sigh behind her and then his footsteps as he followed, soon joined by Johnny's.

There was an uncomfortable silence in the elevator as they waited for the doors to open.

She led them out onto the roof. They'd have some privacy there, and besides, if she felt like throwing Peter off the roof once the conversation was done, she'd have the perfect opportunity.

This is what she'd been dealing with for weeks now. Peter'd promise he'd change, that he'd try to be more careful, and then the next night, like clockwork, he'd crawl in through her window at three AM, bloody and half-dead, and she'd nearly have a heart attack. 

Pleasant it was not.

She used to love it when when the sun set, because that meant she'd get to go clubbing or to parties. Time for fun.

Now, she could only dread it, because it mean that she would wind up worrying about Peter all night long. She'd even gotten to the point where she'd be afraid to leave her apartment at night, because what if Peter got hurt and went to her looking for help, and she wasn't there?

She'd never forgive herself if he d--if he--if _that_ happened while she was off _partying_.

She was glad Johnny was around to help now too, at least, because dealing with the walking disaster that was Peter Parker on her own had been exhausting.

She pointed at the deck chairs the FF had set up on the roof. "Sit," she ordered. 

Peter did, and rather resentfully at that. 

Mary Jane hauled another deck chair over and sat to Peter's left, while Johnny plopped down to his right. 

"Peter," she said, as levelly as she could. "We've talked about this. You promised to lay off the Spideying for a month."

"I _know_ ," Peter said defensively. "I know I did. But I was reading the news yesterday. This little girl, she got stabbed while she was walking home with her mom, like three blocks from my place. If I'd been there, I could've _stopped_ it, MJ! I can't just sit around while innocent people are getting hurt! I know I could've saved her! With great power comes great responsibility, and I have a _responsibility_ to help people. I can't turn my back on that just because I'm having issues that you guys are really blowing out of proportion, by the way. I have _got_ this, guys."

He was lying about having "got this." He was _so_ lying.

What made it worse was that Mary Jane was pretty sure that he _knew_ he was lying--this was just another one of his damn masks. The ones he wore to keep everyone away, keep them from knowing the truth.

After so many years of lying to everyone in his life, Peter seemed to have just gotten used to wearing masks. His Peter Parker mask was every bit as effective as the one he wore as Spider-Man.

He used them both like a shield, used them to keep from ever letting anyone in. He carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, on his own, and never allowed himself to rely on anyone  _but_ himself.

He just couldn't seem to understand that he didn't need to do that anymore. Johnny and MJ were around now--they both were more than willing to help him shoulder any burden. And Mary Jane _had_ been helping him do just that, for ages.

Maybe his masks were enough to fool people who didn't know about Spidey, people who had never gotten glimpses of what was going on underneath Peter's brown curls, but they sure as hell didn't work on Mary Jane.

She knew him too well, had seen him too distraught and vulnerable to ever fall for a second of his tough guy, everything's fine act.  

He _wasn't_ fine. Now if she could only get him to _admit_ it, to realize that he needed help, that he _couldn't_ handle this on his own, and, most importantly, that there was nothing wrong or shameful about any of that, everything would be so much easier. But Peter was so damn proud, so determined to handle everything alone, that she was starting to doubt if that would ever happen.

"You also have a responsibility to take care of _yourself_ , Peter," she retorted. "Everyone else can fend for themselves for a few weeks, until you get yourself sorted out. There's nothing wrong with taking some time for yourself, how many times do I need to tell you that? Besides, there are other heroes out there taking care of people, Pete! Daredevil and Luke Cage and Iron Fist and Jessica Jones...the freaking _Avengers_ , the _FF_ \--" she gestured at Johnny, "--you don't have to _do_ everything yourself!"

"Yeah!" Johnny agreed. "Look, if it makes you feel better, I'll start doing patrols for you. As long as you promise to lay off and actually follow through on that this time."

Peter considered that for a beat. "I don't know," he hedged. "Look, I like helping people. It's--it's the only thing that still makes sense to me anymore."

Well, that _wasn't_ a lie, and it was so very, very telling. It said so much about Peter's worrying state of mind right now.

Mary Jane's eyes flickered over to Johnny for a beat. He didn't seem to have caught its significance.

"There are ways to help people that don't involve getting punched in the face, Pete," Johnny pointed out.

"Or stabbed in the chest," Mary Jane added.

She'd told Johnny about a lot of the things that had happened during the last few weeks...this she hadn't been able to bring herself to talk about. It had been one of the most terrifying experiences of her life.

Waking up to the sound of a loud thud, Peter lying on her floor, barely conscious, a knife sticking out of his chest, blood everywhere? Horrifying.

She'd begged and begged him to let her take him to the hospital, but he'd said no, insisted he'd be fine, just as long as she sowed him up. His healing factor would take care of it in no time, he'd said. So she'd steeled herself up, put on a brave face, sowed the wound shut, bandaged him up, and watched over him the whole night as he slept in her bed, holding his hand and crying and hoping he wouldn't die, and most of all, wishing and wishing and wishing that she could call Johnny, just so she could have someone around to hold _her_ hand, someone who was used to this sort of thing and could tell her if Peter needed a hospital, no matter how much he said he didn't. 

He'd been mostly fine a day or two later, but, goddamn, it had been _scary_ while it was happening.

Peter shot her a deeply annoyed look. Probably not happy she was bringing that all up in front of Johnny, she was guessing.

" _What_?!" Johnny asked, right on cue. "When did _that_ happen?"

"Two weeks ago," Mary Jane said, eyes fixed on Peter's face. He wasn't looking at her at all now. Kinda surly expression on his face too, and a stubborn jut to his jaw. He was going to be more difficult about this than usual. She could already tell. "You missed some fun stuff while you guys were arguing, Johnny. That was  _so_  fun. I absolutely did _not_ cry for a week afterwards." She shook her head. "And then the rib thing like a week later, Peter? That was just the last straw, because you _promised_  me you'd be more careful."

"Sorry," Peter muttered. "It's not like I did it on purpose."

"You almost _died_ , Peter!" Mary Jane shouted, losing her temper. "On my bedroom _floor_! What the hell would I have done if you had? What would your aunt have done? Or Johnny?"

"I was _fine_!" Peter protested. "I  _am_  fine. I don't even have a scar!"

"That is not the  _point_ , Peter Parker!" Mary Jane retorted. "That's not the point at all. Why can't you understand that?"

"So what _is_ the point?" Peter challenged.

"The point is that you're nineteen years old! You should be worrying about what shirt to wear on your next date, not how much blood you can get away with losing before you die!" Mary Jane hollered at him. She jabbed a finger at him. "I actually had to google that for you, don't you dare deny it!"

"Why the _hell_ didn't you guys call me?" Johnny asked, hurt. "The next time he's hurt, MJ, you call me right away. I don't care what we argued about, and I don't care what the moron says. Some things are more important than any of that."

"Deal," she said. "I could use the help anyways. He's a terrible patient."

"I was _fine_!" Peter insisted, throwing up his hands. "It hardly even hurt."

"Oh my _god_!" Mary Jane said indignantly. "Liar! You _screamed_ when I pulled out the knife."

"Right," Peter said, squinting. "Um. I forgot about that. That part maybe hurt a little. But I'm used to it. It happens a lot.”

"My whole point,” Mary Jane said through gritted teeth, "is that it _shouldn't_. That's the sort of thing you shouldn't never get used to. I'm sure as hell not used to patching you up! I swear to god, I have had _nightmares_ about you bleeding to death on me!”

“Oh,” Peter said. He actually managed to sound somewhat guilty this time. “Uh, sorry.”

Mary Jane rolled her eyes. “I don’t _want_ you to _apologize_ , moron. I want you to say you’ll stop doing it. At least for a month. That is all I'm asking. It's really not that much, and, c'mon, you owe me big time for saving your life with the whole knife thing. And a billion other times.”

“Guys,” he said unhappily. “Do I have to?”

“Just a month, Pete,” Johnny said soothingly. He snapped his fingers and pointed at Mary Jane like he'd just remembered. “Oh, and Mary Jane, tell him he has to come out of his room sometimes too. Not just when you’re here.”

Mary Jane inhaled sharply. “Peter,” she said, valiantly resisting the urge to face-palm. “Peter, have you been staying in your room?”

“Um,” Peter hedged. “Not always? Sometimes I go Spideying.”

Mary Jane really wanted to smack the back of his head, but she restrained herself. “Peter,” she ground out, clenching her fists. “I arranged this so you’d have people to talk to, people to help you, people who might even get what you're going through. So you wouldn't be _alone_ all the time, because being alone was just making you _worse_. But, see, here's the thing--not being alone actually requires you to, you know, _hang out with them_." She took a deep breath, reached out, and put her hand on his forearm. "What's wrong, Pete?" she continued softly. "You _love_ the FF, I know you do. You've tried to join them before. You love Reed and Sue and Ben, and you definitely love Johnny. So why won't you hang out with them?”

“I don’t wanna,” Peter said stubbornly. “I didn’t want to live here in the first place, you know.”

"Why on earth _not_?" MJ asked. She took the time to remind herself that if she strangled him, it would be very counterproductive.

"It feels too much like they're doing it out of pity. Sue doesn't even really know me as Peter Parker," Peter replied. 

"She's doing it because she knows you matter to me, and because she knows you matter to Reed," Johnny pointed out. "That makes you family. To all of us. And if your family needs you, you pitch in and help. That's just how we roll. Besides, as Spidey, you're definitely family to all of us. We all think that. We can tell them, if you want, and then they'll all know you."

Peter didn't say anything. 

"I'm guessing that's a no," Johnny sighed. "Too bad. Ben would go bananas if he knew you were you. He's got a real soft spot for you. Erm. Spidey."

"I don't know," Peter said. "I'll think about it."

MJ rolled her eyes at Peter. “Johnny,” she said, “how would you feel about me staying with you guys for a little while, just until Petey gets settled?”

“Would you?” Johnny asked hopefully. “Because that would be awesome.”

“Oh, come on!” Peter said, throwing up his hands, exasperated. “ _No_ , guys, come on!”

“How’s tomorrow?” she asked, pointedly ignoring Peter. "You guys can come over and help me with my luggage. Bring your fanciest car, Storm."

“Yup,” Johnny replied, nodding his head. “Deal. We just have to tell Sue. I'm sure she'll be okay with it. She's been at her wit's end with him too."

“I _hate_ my life,” Peter said, head in his hands.

"Oh, stop being a drama queen, Petey," Mary Jane said. "You like having me around."

"I guess," Peter said. "When you're not being bossy. And, I dunno, before you kissed Johnny."

"I wouldn't have to be so bossy if you'd stop being an idiot," Mary Jane hissed. "And started being actually reasonable about, you know, little things, like your health. Physical _and_ mental. Do you think I enjoy any part of this at all? I also wouldn't've had to kiss Johnny if you'd been reasonable. Believe me, that wasn't pleasant for either of us. But you'd been stabbed and broken your ribs and had a dozen other injuries in the past few weeks, and I couldn't let it keep happening, Peter! I had to do _something_. And then you showed up at the club, and I was a little drunk, and it seemed like a good idea at the time!"

"Pete," Johnny said, putting his hand on Peter's shoulder, "she's right. You've gotta start taking care of yourself, buddy. Also, that kiss? It was like kissing Sue would probably be. Did nothing for me, buddy. Don't worry, Pete, your lips are the only lips for me."

Peter averted his eyes and didn't say anything. He always got awkward when Johnny said stuff like that. 

"You know, one of these days, you're going to have to forgive me for that. Honestly, Pete, you're not even _dating_ Johnny, and, according to you, it's never gonna happen!" Mary Jane tried. She hoped he changed his mind about that, but it didn't make it any less true right now. "So getting mad at me for kissing a guy you aren't dating, never have, and supposedly have no plans to date in the future? It's a little unfair, don't you think?"

"Unless," Johnny suggested, and Mary Jane definitely didn't miss the hopeful tone in his voice, "you maybe _do_ want to date me?"

Peter whirled his head around to glare daggers at both of them. "Oh, I am _so_ done with this conversation," he said, rising to his feet. "I _hate_ it when you guys gang up on me like this. MJ, stay, don't stay, makes no difference to me."

"Fine," Mary Jane shot back. "So I'll stay, since you don't care."

"Fine," Peter snapped. "Stay. I am so goddamn _sick_ of everyone butting in on my business. My life has nothing to do with either of you, so just stay the hell away from me."

He marched over to the door and slammed it shut behind him.

"Whew," Mary Jane said, sitting back in the deck chair as soon as he was gone. "That was _rough_."

"Did he really mean that?" Johnny asked. He sounded worried.

"Who knows," Mary Jane said. "The way he's been lately? Who knows. It's hard to tell, he's been so moody. He'll say stuff like that one minute, and the next he'll be sweet and friendly as can be, just like he used to be before all the Gwen stuff happened. But...let's keep our distance, just in case. Wait until _he_ comes to _us_. He will eventually. He gets lonely, needs someone to talk to, and he always comes back to me, because he doesn't really have anyone else. Always works out that way." She sighed. "But in the meantime, I need a drink. Like a margarita. Maybe a mojito. Um. Lots of them would be ideal."

"You're outta luck," Johnny said with a wry snort. "Sue would never allow it."

"Yeah," Mary Jane sighed. "I figured. Just a thought."

"We should probably follow him and make sure he doesn't websling off," Johnny pointed out. 

"Yeah," Mary Jane said, getting to her feet. "You're probably right." She shook her head and wove her arm through Johnny's. "How did this become my life, Johnny? I used to have _fun_ , like all the time. I was a party girl. I was _the_ party girl. Not anymore. Nothing's been the same since Gwen died. Everything's just been falling apart. And I keep trying to hold everything together--hold _Peter_ together--but nothing ever seems to work. It's like trying to hold sand. Just keeps slipping through my fingers."

"Yeah," Johnny said quietly, staring at the floor with a distant look in his eyes. "I know the feeling."

Mary Jane couldn't bring herself to ask him why.


	13. I'll Be There

Peter could see iron gates and carefully tended lawns of Avengers Mansion very clearly from the windows of Dr. Sinclair's waiting room.

He stared at the mansion intently, thinking that perhaps he'd see the Avengers fly by in the Quinjet, or perhaps Thor or Tony, winding their way home from their daily quota of world-saving.

Peter could use some saving himself at the moment, he supposed, but the type of saving he needed was not the sort a superhero would be particularly useful for.

Peter should know. He was, after all, himself in the business of saving people. 

He supposed that was part of the problem. Since Gwen's death, he had focused so intensely on saving everyone around him, he had perhaps been neglecting the ways in which he himself needed saving.

Still, to be asked to begin sorting through the mass of problems that had accumulated over the last few months was a daunting prospect. Peter had no idea if he could handle it. Neither did he know if he wanted to so much as try.

But Aunt May, who was sitting to his right, clutching at his arm, and MJ, sitting primly to his left, legs crossed, leafing through a magazine, and Johnny, slouching to Aunt May's right, drawing fiery designs in the air, had all begged him to, and no matter what he said to the latter two, he _did_ value their opinions, and so he was here. 

He simply had no idea if this was going to work. It seemed impossible from where he was standing, unless Dr. Sinclair was some kind of miracle worker. Perhaps she was. Johnny seemed to think so, at the very least.

"Peter," MJ said, reaching out and wrapping her hand around his, likely to stop him from drumming his fingers nervously against his thigh, "you're going to be fine, y'know."

"Hmph," Peter said.

"Doc Sinclair's great," Johnny said as he leaned forwards to look at Peter. "You'll see."

Peter let his head thunk against the wall and shut his eyes. "Right." 

Aunt May squeezed his arm. She was worried. Peter could tell. 

Ever since he'd been a child, Peter had never been able to bear seeing Aunt May worried or sad. There was little he loathed more.

He opened his eyes and glanced over her. Her mouth was pressed into a tight, thin line, her eyes downcast. "Hey, pretty lady," he said, trying to smile, just for her. "Everything's gonna be fine."

"Peter," she said, reaching a hand up to caress his face, "does that mean you'll listen to what the doctor says, even if it's just for my sake?"

Peter sighed and leaned into her touch. "Yeah," he said reluctantly. "For you, anything."

She smiled at him gratefully.

* * *

When the receptionist called his name, Peter took a deep breath and rose to his feet. He'd been dreading this all week, but he was somewhat comforted by the knowledge that at the very least he would be getting it over with now. Nothing more to dread, not until next week, at the very least.

Who knew? Perhaps he'd walk in there and Dr. Sinclair would be as incredible as Dr. Richards and Johnny were making her out to be.

Peter doubted it, but anything was possible.

She certainly seemed very successful. Peter had never in his life been to a psychiatrist with an office this swanky, that was for certain.

He'd been shocked when he'd noticed that the magazines on the table were from this month, and that was a first for him. Typically, in the psychiatrist's office he'd been to, he'd been lucky if the magazines were from the same _year_.

MJ tossed the magazine she'd been reading on the table, got to her feet, and pecked a kiss against his cheek. "Go get 'em, Tiger," she said with an encouraging smile.

"We'll be waiting here when you get back," Johnny said, clapping a hand to Peter's shoulder. "Good luck, pal. Just do yourself a favor and give her a chance."

"Please try, Peter," Aunt May pleaded.

Peter gave a small nod and walked in, trying not to feel nervous. He'd fought Doc Ock and the Green Goblin, and fought side-by-side with Captain America, and been an assistant in Dr. Richards' lab. He was certain he could handle talking to a psychiatrist.

* * *

"Do you really think this is gonna work?" Johnny asked after about five minutes. "Do you think he'll listen to her?" 

He'd been rolling that question over and over in his mind for the past week, ever since Reed had suggested therapy. It could work, of course, had done wonders for him, but it only had an impact if the patient was willing to try. Peter was perhaps not in the proper frame of mind for this. 

But having someone to talk to who was impartial, insightful, and supportive? It was so helpful.

Not that it hadn't been a great deal of work for Johnny to heal from his problems. They had not been precisely insignificant, even in comparison to Peter's.

The recklessness, the chip on his shoulder, shoving away everyone who cared, who tried to help? Johnny'd been there, done that, until Sue and Reed and Ben had gotten so fed up with him they'd sent him off to Doctor Sinclair.

It had, in retrospect, been the right call, but at the time Johnny had been significantly less appreciative of that fact.

Doctor Sinclair had been able to get through to him, so perhaps she'd be able to do the same for Peter.

MJ glanced up from the magazine she was thumbing through. "Who knows?" she said, shrugging one of her shoulders. "I really can't tell with him anymore."

"It'll work," Aunt May said firmly. "It just has to. My Peter's a good boy. He'll listen to her. He promised me he would, didn't he?"

Johnny couldn't argue with that, but he was fairly certain that she was underestimating just how damn stubborn her adopted son could be.

* * *

Peter walked out of Dr. Sinclair's office an hour later. Johnny leapt to his feet the moment the door began to creak open.

Johnny scanned his body language carefully, eager to figure out if what she'd said had made any kind of impact. 

Everything about Peter was tight and brittle--his drawn face, his downcast eyes, the way he was holding his arms, which he was hugging protectively to his chest.

He was clearly struggling to keep a tenuous hold on his emotions.

Johnny sympathized. Therapy sessions could be rough sometimes, and had been known to leave him very emotional. 

"Hey, buddy," Johnny said as gently as he could. "You feelin' okay?"

Peter didn't meet his eyes. "Yeah," he said brusquely. "I'm fine, Johnny."

"Yeah," Johnny said, not believing him for one second. "Sure you are."

It was clear that he didn't want to talk about whatever was bothering him with Johnny, but that certainly didn't mean he was fine.

"Can we just go?" Peter asked, pushing past them without another word.

* * *

Peter somehow managed to give them the slip between the Doc's office and the car.

They were already outside, heading for Johnny's car, when Peter announced he needed to use the restroom and ducked back inside. Of course they waited for him.

And waited.

And waited.

Finally Aunt May sent Johnny inside to look for Peter. 

Johnny checked the restroom, checked at the front desk, but no one had seen him.

Peter was nowhere. Vanished into thin air.

Johnny felt sick to his stomach. Peter shouldn't be alone right now. He knew what it was like, what this felt like, and Peter shouldn't be alone right now.

Suddenly it hit him. Peter'd been wearing a long-sleeved shirt, despite the fact that it was hot as hell outside.

He'd been wearing his Spidey suit underneath his regular clothes.

Johnny couldn't fathom how he hadn't noticed earlier.

He dashed back outside, shoved his keys into MJ's hand, told them to wait for him at the Baxter Building, and said that he'd call them as soon as he tracked down Peter.

He flamed on and flew off after Peter before MJ could say a word.

He had no idea what Peter was up to, but he knew Peter needed him, and Johnny was determined to be there for him, the way he always should be.

* * *

Peter had run off because he couldn't stand it, the way Johnny and MJ and Aunt May had been looking at him, as though he was two seconds away from breaking down in tears.

Peter wasn't about to do that. No how, no way.

Doctor Sinclair had been...different than Peter'd expected. She'd been smart, supportive, insightful, and very, very capable. He could see why Johnny was so taken with her after the first five minutes.

She had presented him with a choice--he could continue going the way he had been, buried so deeply in his misery and grief and despair he could hardly remember what it was to feel anything else, or he could be braver than he ever had been and begin to work on recovering from it. But she made it clear that, whatever his reasons, it had to be his decision. No one else could make it for him. 

Peter hadn't known how to answer her, and so she'd asked him to think about that until their next session, when they'd discuss it again. 

That was also why he'd left Aunt May and MJ and Johnny--he couldn't handle it, the way they were all so concerned, so kind, so helpful. There was still a small part of him that wondered if he deserved their compassion, after he'd destroyed the lives of the Stacys, of the Osborns, of the Parkers, so thoroughly. 

Two dead fathers, a murdered daughter, a missing son, all his responsibility.

Peter found it impossible to accept that he deserved forgiveness. He'd never spoken to Mary Jane or Johnny about the full extent of his sins, about everything that had happened with Norman and Harry the day Gwen died. Couldn't bear the look on their face if he told them, too terrified that they'd turn their backs on him as well, if they knew. 

Johnny would never look at him the same way again, he knew that much, and that would break Peter's heart, and Peter's heart couldn't take any more breaking.

That was the question that filled Peter's thoughts as he swung through the city, losing himself in the rhythm of his body. Did he deserve to heal? Could he even begin to forgive himself for any of this?

The next minute, he looked up, looked around, finally coming back to himself, and he discovered that he was standing on the Brooklyn Bridge, the dreadful bridge where Gwen had breathed her last, where his life, the life they'd planned together, had vanished, leaving Peter lost, desolate, and broken.

Gwen had been on his mind, he supposed, as always, flitting around the edges of his subconscious, and that was why he'd wound up here.

He needed to talk to her. Needed to hear her voice, needed her gentle words of wisdom. Not that it would ever happen. But he could pretend, while he talked to her, that she might, this time, find some way to answer him.

He glanced off in the distance at the city skyline.

The sky was a vibrant blue, the same color as Gwen's eyes, stretching over a the shimmering spires of Manhattan.

He took off his mask and glanced down at his red-and-blue mask, fingers tracing lightly over the white lenses.

"Gwendy," Peter found himself saying, "I know it's been awhile since I've visited you. I guess I was...I guess I was too ashamed. Didn't know how to tell you, Gwendy. Because, the thing is...I kissed Johnny Storm. Twice, if I'm being honest. But it's worse than that, Gwendy, so much worse. I'm starting to think...I'm afraid I might...might really care about him. Maybe I even--I thought the kiss thing was a fluke at first, but...I don't think that anymore, Gwendy."

"I'm so sorry if you're disappointed in me. I know I'm letting you down. I know that I'm failing you, and believe me, I hate myself for it. I don't think you can understand how much I hate myself for it, because I never wanted to feel like this about him. I never wanted any part of this."

"I just don't _know_ if I want to let myself love Johnny, because I don't want to stop lovin' you, Gwendy. I never did. I was never supposed to, and I just can't get over that. I look around at my life, all the time, and I just go--this isn't right. My life wasn't supposed to be like this. I was never supposed to be kissing Johnny Storm, or even considering going out with him. I was supposed to marry  _you_ , Gwendy. We were supposed to have a life together. But that was all taken from both of us, and nothing I can do will ever set things right again."

"I've done so many terrible things I can never set right. I've destroyed so many lives. The Stacy family, all dead, all because of me. The Osborns, also ruined, all because of me. Uncle Ben dead because of me. I don't know, Gwendy, I just don't know if I even _deserve_ to get better."

Peter scrubbed at his face, almost as though he were trying to rub away all signs of the worry and despair he felt. "But lately I've found myself thinkin'...what's the point in thinkin' like that? You aren't coming back, not ever. Neither's your dad, or my Uncle Ben, or...anyone else that I've failed. Without all of you, I can never have the life I wanted, the life I always thought I'd have. Am I gonna spend the rest of my life pinin' over someone who's gone where I can't follow, dwelling on the past, on my mistakes, or am I gonna make myself move on? Maybe Johnny was right. Maybe MJ and Doc Sinclair and everyone, maybe they're right. What's the point in holding on to the past so tightly? What's the point in making myself so miserable over what I've done? What good does it do anyone?"

"Maybe I should forgive myself. Maybe I should date Johnny, y'know. Maybe I should grab tight hold of the guy who's right in front of me, who loves me, who's _right_   _here_ , and never let go. I _want_ to do that. I  _want_  to be happy again, Gwendy, I need to be, 'cause I can't keep goin' the way I have been, I know that. They're all right about that. I just  _know_ , in my heart, that I can't keep feeling like this, Gwendy."

"And I just don't know what to _do_ about any of this, Gwendy, not any of it. I wouldn't even know how to start forgiving myself, or--or getting over you, even if I decided I wanted to. I wish I could hear what you have to say. You always had a way of cutting right through to the heart of things. But without you, I'm just lost. Don't know which way to turn."

Peter looked up pleadingly at the sky. "C'mon, Gwendy, just...show me a sign. Anything. Tell me it's okay now. For me to move on. To start figurin' out what my life is gonna be without you. Maybe even to see if I can ever learn how to forgive myself."

He stood there in silence for awhile, eyes shut, head bowed, mask twisting in his hands, waiting for a reply, but none came.

Well. That was it, then. Gwen didn't think he deserved to be forgiven. Gwen thought he deserved this, all of this. There was no hope, none at all. Peter'd been a fool to think there ever had been. 

Peter fell to his knees on the hard granite of the bridge, pressed a hand to his mouth as his shoulders shook with barely suppressed sobs.

And then Peter heard something unexpected--the unmistakable sound of fire crackling in the wind. 

He shut his eyes and hoped and hoped he was right, that he wasn't simply imagining this.

When he turned around and looked, his heart leapt. Sure enough, there was Johnny. 

Peter stared at Johnny, dumbstruck. What were the odds that Johnny would fly by and find him right here, in all of this vast city, at  _precisely_  this moment? This--it had to be--it  _was_  a sign from Gwen. She was telling him it was okay. That she forgave him.

Ever since Gwen's death, Peter's life had been a long, unending winter, enveloped in a darkness so pitch black that it had obscured Peter's vision entirely, suffused with an icy cold that Peter could feel seeping deep into his bones, until the memory of warmth and light had nearly faded from his mind.

After that, there had been only Spider-Man, only the mission, only his unending struggle against death and cruelty and injustice. That had been the only thing that mattered.

But now, when Peter had been on the verge of losing hope entirely, Johnny had burst into his life like a ray of warm sunlight, piercing through the cold and the dark, illuminating Peter's weary little world and holding out the promise that spring might come again, the world be born anew.

"Peter?" Johnny said softly. "You okay, buddy?"

Peter scrambled to his feet and stood there, clutching at his mask. Gwen had sent Johnny here. It must have been for a reason. She must have wanted Peter to let Johnny in, let him help, or at least try to. He swallowed thickly before admitting, "No. I'm not. I don't think I have been in a very long time."

There was still a quaver in his voice, and Johnny had undoubtedly noticed that Peter had been crying when he'd landed. Peter suddenly found that he couldn't bring himself to care that Johnny was seeing him in this state. 

Johnny reached out as though he wanted to hug Peter, but he clenched his hands tightly and dropped them against his thighs instead, as though he was afraid to, perhaps because he didn't know if Peter would let him. Instead, he said, "I know, Pete. I know. But that's okay, you know. It's okay to not be okay."

"Do you think Dr. Sinclair can fix me?" Peter rasped out. 

"I wish I could say yes, but it--it doesn't work like that, buddy," Johnny said hesitantly, as though he was picking his words carefully. " _You_ do the fixing. She just helps you figure out how. But you? I know _you_ can fix yourself, buddy. You're a hero. You can beat this. You're just gonna have to be really brave, because it's gonna be rough at first. But it's okay, you know, because I'm here, and I've got your back, Pete, and I always will. I'll help you through this, and so will MJ."

"I don't know if I can, Johnny," Peter said, feeling himself begin to fall apart, but it was okay, because Johnny was here again, and Johnny would catch him and help him put himself back together, no matter how long it took. "This hurts, Johnny. It hurts _so much_. Please help me. Oh _god_ , please help me."

Johnny didn't hesitate this time. He pulled Peter into his arms and held him so tightly Peter could hardly breathe.

Peter clung to Johnny, desperate for comfort Johnny wasn't sure how to give. He would have given anything to be able to.

"Hey," Johnny said as his heart all but shattered in two. "Anything you need, buddy, you've got. Anything. You know that."

Johnny held Peter for nearly an hour while Peter wept in his arms. 

* * *

Aunt May let her teacup clatter down into its saucer the moment she saw Johnny fly in through the window with Peter curled up in his arms.

As soon as Peter'd calmed down, Johnny'd had him change back into his street clothes, and then flew him back to the Baxter Building, where MJ and Aunt May were waiting for them.

"Peter!" Aunt May cried out. "Are you alright?" 

"No," Peter rasped out. His eyes were red and puffy from all of the crying, and he was still a bit shaky. He was sure Aunt May could tell. "I'm not."

"Come here, dear," she said, as she pulled him into the familiar comfort of her arms.

He couldn't help himself; he started to cry again. "Why can't I s-stop crying?" he sobbed. It was irritating and embarrassing, letting everyone see him like this, and he hated it, but he couldn't seem to make himself stop.

"It happens, Petey," Mary Jane said soothingly, squeezing his bicep and wishing she could hug him too. "It's okay. Cry all you want. No one's judging you, believe me." 

* * *

Hours later, Johnny found Peter on the balcony, sitting on the ledge, one foot dangling over the side. There was a notebook resting on one of his knees, in which he was busily scribbling something with a tiny stub of a pencil that should have been thrown out ages ago.

Peter looked worn out. Johnny could hardly blame him after everything he'd been through.

"Hey," Johnny said, just in case Peter hadn't noticed he was there. "Brought you something from your aunt."

Peter's eyes flicked to the salmon pink mug in Johnny's hand. He frowned. "That's hot chocolate," he said.

"Yep."

"It's ninety degrees out. Did you tell Aunt May that it's ninety degrees?" 

"Yep. She said that it always makes you feel better, and that she was makin' it anyways."

Peter sighed and rolled his eyes. "Give it here," he said, sticking out his hand. 

Johnny dutifully handed it over. Peter set it down on the wall next to him and resumed his scribbling without so much as taking a sip. Johnny could hardly blame him if it was really as hot as Peter said. Johnny remembered how awful that had been, back when he could still feel it.

Peter's eyes flicked back up to Johnny's face when he noticed Johnny wasn't leaving. "What?" he asked suspiciously.

"Do you mind if I hang out with you for awhile?" Johnny asked uncertainly. He never knew how Peter was going to react to things these days. "It's okay if you want to be alone."

Peter's eyes dropped back to his notebook. He took a beat to think about it. Johnny held his breath. "I don't know," he said awkwardly. "It's fine, I guess."

"Cool," Johnny said, and scrambled up next to him, swinging both his legs over the side. Hey, he could fly. He didn't have to worry about falling. He leaned over and tried to peek at what Peter was writing. "So, what're you writing in there? It's about me, isn't it? You know, little hearts with our initials in it?"

Peter rolled his eyes and showed Johnny what he'd been busy working on. Johnny was very disappointed to discover there were no hearts. It looked like...equations? Very, very complicated equations. The kind Reed was always scribbling everywhere--on napkins, the palm of his hand, the sleeve of his shirt, Sue's best tablecloth...

"Math?" Johnny asked, surprised. "I'm pretty sure that's math, anyways. It could be code, or maybe an alien language, I guess."

Peter snorted. "Johnny," he said patiently, "you were right the first time."

"Oh," Johnny said, scrunching up his nose. "Why are you doing _math_?" 

Johnny couldn't fathom why anyone would willingly do math at all, ever.

"I dunno," Peter said, bending his head and staring blankly at the white pages. Johnny didn't get how that didn't hurt his eyes--they were blindingly white in the much-too-bright sunlight that was beating down at them. "It makes me feel calmer. The numbers...make sense. I always know what they're going to do, and I can make them do whatever I want. Sometimes I wish people were like that."

"Yeah, but, you know, life would be so boring then, if everyone always did what you wanted. Isn't it more fun not knowing what's gonna happen?" Johnny countered. 

"Yeah," Peter agreed. "I guess. I kind of realized that I've been trying to treat--treat _people_ like numbers. And I shouldn't have been. People can make their own choices, you know?"

"Some things people don't get much of a choice in at all, Pete," Johnny said quietly. "Sometimes people really can be as predictable as numbers."

"What do you mean?" Peter asked.

Johnny waited to gather his thoughts before he answered. He wanted to say this, and he wanted to say it right. "I mean that sometimes people can't help feeling the way they feel about other people. It's like they don't really even have a choice. It just...happens, without them even noticing it or wanting it to happen. And then it just makes everyone's lives harder, because they're idiots who shouldn't've let it happen in the first place, and it just winds up hurting the one person they never wanted to hurt."

Peter stared down at his notebook after that and didn't say anything for a long while, like he was parsing through what Johnny'd just said. "Johnny," he asked hesitantly, "are you saying that you wish you hadn't--that you didn't feel about me the way you do?"

Johnny couldn't tell if he wanted Johnny to say yes or no to that. 

He shrugged. "I dunno. I can't help but think that none of this would ever've happened if I hadn't. I'm sorry for letting you down, Pete. I'm sorry for anything I've done that's hurt you. I never wanted that. I've only ever wanted you to be happy."

"You didn't," Peter said immediately. "You could never. I'm the one who should be apologizing. I've been terrible to you and to Mary Jane. I just hope you can both forgive me somehow."

"Don't be stupid," Johnny said. "I keep telling you, I forgave you ages ago."

"Yeah," Peter said, not sounding as though he honestly believed Johnny'd forgiven him for much of anything. "I guess you did say that."

"MJ and I both adore you," Johnny added. "There's really not much you could do to change that. If the last few weeks have proven anything, buddy, it's that. I know the way I feel about you isn't going away anytime soon."

"Yeah," Peter said awkwardly. "Johnny, I just--can't do the, uh, dating thing right now. I can't even think about stuff like that right now. I need to get my own head on straight before I can even start considering it."

"No!" Johnny said hastily. "I didn't mean--I wasn't trying to--I mean, I get that. You need to focus on you right now, I get it. It's fine, really."

Peter took a deep breath and then said, "I mean...I guess there's no point in pretending I don't have feelings for you. Um. A lot of them. Strong ones. I just...can't handle a relationship right now. It's just. It's too much. Maybe once I get my life back on track. Figure out how I feel about a couple of things. But we can definitely be friends again, like before, if--if you still want that, I mean."

"Of course I want to be your friend," Johnny said. "I always will. Nothing's ever gonna change that, Pete. I swear it."

"Oh," Peter said. "Uh. Well. That's--that's good."

An awkward silence fell between them, as though neither of them quite knew what else to say, or perhaps where to begin saying all that needed to be said, because there was _so much_ that needed saying. 

Johnny didn't quite know what it was acceptable to say to Peter now--there were so many things that he'd bitten down over the past few months because Peter didn't want to hear them, or maybe he just hadn't been able to. 

Johnny wasn't sure if it was okay to say them now. 

But Peter knew now, for certain, that Johnny was in love with him. He didn't seem to want to talk about it, it was true, but he wasn't actively telling Johnny to stop. That had to count for something, right?

Johnny jerked his hand away, startled, when he felt Peter's cover his own where it had been resting lightly on the parapet.

Peter pulled his hand away instantly. "Oh," he said, a slight flush crawling up his cheeks. "Sorry. I just wanted--sorry. Stupid."

"No," Johnny said, snagging Peter's hand before it got too far away. He twined his fingers through Peter's to make sure he didn't pull it away this time. "It's fine, really. I was just, you know, surprised. It's been awhile since you've done that."

"Yeah," Peter said, squeezing Johnny's hand apologetically. "I know." He turned and scooted over until his shoulder was bumping against Johnny's, and Johnny had to fight the urge to fly off and do cartwheels in the sky. "That was--it was a mistake. Not--not doing it more often, I mean. I really--uh, really missed this, you know."

He didn't say that he'd missed Johnny in so many words, but Johnny knew that was what he meant.

"Yeah," Johnny said, smiling. "I missed you too, buddy."

"Yeah," Peter said, dipping his eyes down.

Neither of them said anything for a few moments, but then Johnny's heart almost stopped beating entirely when he heard Peter take a deep breath and then rested his head on Johnny's shoulder. 

Johnny was too afraid to even breathe in case it made Peter snap to his senses and stop whatever it was he was doing.

"Oh," Peter said contentedly, sighing as he relaxed against Johnny's side. "That's nice." A moment later, apparently confused at the fact that Johnny hadn't moved at all, he added, "Put your arm around my shoulders, moron. It's fine."

Johnny let himself breathe again. Whatever was making Peter do this, it wasn't going away. 

"Have I mentioned how cute you are when you're bossy?" he said, reluctantly letting go of Peter's hand and bringing his arm up as ordered.

"Uh...no?"

"It's probably because you're not." 

It felt good to tease Pete again. Like everything was normal again, and all of the terrible things that had happened the last few weeks had never happened at all. 

Peter made an outraged noise and whacked Johnny's leg just hard enough to make it sting.

Yeah. That was definitely Pete behaving like his old self.

"Ow!" Johnny whined, rubbing at the spot where Peter'd hit him. "I'm _so_ telling your aunt that you hit me, just FYI."

"Go right ahead," Peter said, sounding more unconcerned than Johnny was entirely comfortable with. "I'll tell her you don't actually like her meatloaf. And that the whole fake dating thing was your idea, which it was."

Johnny gasped indignantly. "You _wouldn't_. That's just  _low_."

"I would," Peter said levelly. "Of course, I won't mention that _nobody_ likes her meatloaf. Just that _you_ don't. Or that I'm the one who talked you into lying to her for months. Won't mention that either."

"Were you always this evil, or have I just blocked the evilness out in my memory?" Johnny asked.

"Probably always, I'm guessing," Peter said.

Johnny pressed a kiss to his temple. "Well, that's okay. I like you anyways."

He didn't miss the way Peter smiled at that, even though it was so faint most people would probably have missed it.

* * *

They sat out there for a considerable amount of time, enjoying each other's company in a way they hadn't been able to in ages, although neither one got around to saying anything of consequence--Johnny because he wasn't certain what he was allowed to say, Peter because he had no idea what he would say, if he could--until Peter decided it was much too hot and sweaty to stay outside. 

When Johnny invited Peter to play video games with him inside, Peter said yes immediately. Johnny beamed at him, and Peter very nearly smiled back.

He sent Johnny on ahead to set up the console while he gathered up his things--the untouched mug of hot chocolate, his notebook, his pencil. 

Just before he walked inside, Peter glanced up at the clear, untouched blue of the sky, smiled, and said, "Thanks, Gwendy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to chat with me on [tumblr](http://timelordsandladies.tumblr.com/)!


	14. Family Dinner, Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I haven't finished the whole chapter, but this beginning part's done, so I thought I'd post it since it's been so long since I've updated. 
> 
> The second half will follow shortly!
> 
> Updates should be more or less regular from now on--although I may take some time to work on fics for Spideytorch Week.

Johnny pulled on an expensive black suit jacket and examined his reflection carefully in his mirror. He couldn't help but preen--he was looking _good_ , if he did say so himself.

"Cut that out," Peter said, shoving him out of the way unceremoniously. "Some of us need to use the mirror for actual reasons that don't involve ogling ourselves."

"Some of us also have our own rooms," Johnny pointed out, folding his arms. "And our own mirrors. And are very annoyingly horning in on other people's mirrors."

Peter leveled a cool glare at Johnny as he tried--and that was exactly the right word for it, because he was failing miserably--to tie a knot in his royal blue tie.

"You suck at tying ties," Johnny observed, after watching him for a few moments.

"You say the sweetest things, Torchy," Peter replied dryly.

"Thanks. I try."

"Try somewhere that isn't here, would you?"

"This is literally my bedroom. _You_ go somewhere else."

"I'll think about it."

Johnny watched as Peter failed yet again. "Need help?" he asked, trying not to smile.

"No," Peter said sharply. "If I can build interdimensional portals--"

"Help Reed build them, you mean," Johnny cut in.

"--I can tie a damn tie."

"Well, far be it for me to point this out, buddy, but they're two totally different skill sets. Haven't you ever tied a tie before?"

"My Aunt May usually does it. Or--"

He faltered before finishing the sentence, but Johnny knew what he was going say. Gwen. 

"Anyways," Peter continued. "It's not like I wear a lot of ties. I'm more into sweaters."

"So I've noticed. Mostly because I spend a lot of time fantasizing about getting you out of them. Which I'll admit is a little bit because they're ugly and you aren't." 

"Don't diss my sweaters!"

"Wear better sweaters and I won't need to."

"My sweaters are fine! I'm so telling Aunt May you said that."

Johnny's eyes widened. "Does she...knit your sweaters?"

"Some of 'em, yeah," Peter said. "Why?"

Johnny tossed his head back and laughed. "Your mom knits your sweaters? That's amazing. It also explains so much."

"Technically, she's my aunt."

" _Very_ technically. She raised you. That makes her your mom."

Peter shrugged. "Does that mean Sue's your mom?"

"I dunno. Our relationship's complicated. I mean, I don't even remember my mom."

"Yeah," Peter confessed. "Me neither."

"We turned out okay, though."

"Well, maybe you did."

"You turned out great, Pete. Stop tearing yourself down like that. I hate it when you do that."

"This might be harder than it looks," Peter admitted ruefully, holding up the ends of a tie that had no knot in it, and yet had somehow managed to turn the wrong way round.

"Pete," Johnny said. "Just let me help. Seriously. You said you were going to be better about letting people help you out, remember?"

"I didn't mean with ties."

"Well, to be fair, you didn't specify. C'mon, man, let me tie your tie. You're making me sad, just looking at you and your pitiful tie tying."

"Fine," Peter said, giving up in a frustrated huff after his fourth attempt resulted in something that looked nothing like a proper knot. He turned to Johnny, gestured at his tie, and told him, "Help if you want."

"How about I just show you how? Then you can tie all future ties instead of getting all huffy about it."

"I would be okay with that. I guess."

Johnny made a little circular motion with his finger. "Turn around, buddy. Face the mirror."

"You can't just do it while I'm facing you?" Peter complained.

"No," Johnny said slowly, as though Peter was being incredibly stupid. "Because then you won't be able to see what I'm doing, which is the whole point."

Peter rolled his eyes as though Johnny were the one asking a huge favor instead of going out of his way to help out the guy who was robbing him of valuable pre-dinner preening-in-the-mirror time.

"If your hand goes anywhere near my tushie, Storm, there'll be hell to pay," Peter warned. "My tushie, off limits to Johnnys."

"I am offended, and--and _outraged_ and pissed that you think I would ever put my hands on your glorious, glorious ass without your permission, Parker."

"Maybe I think that because you keep calling it weird things. Like, I don't know, glorious. Or--what was it yesterday? Magnificent?"

"You only think it's weird because you can't see it, so you can't appreciate its full glory," Johnny teased.

Peter gave a long-suffering sigh. "I'm starting to think you like me more for my tushie than for me."

"I'd say it's more like 20% your ass, 80% you." He considered that for a beat. "Make that 25."

"As long as all of your admiring is done from a distance, I'm cool with it."

"Hey," Johnny mused. "That would be a great name for a band, don't you think? Peter's Glorious, Glorious Ass?"

"No," Peter said firmly. "Don't you even think about it, Storm."

"What? It would be like an homage. A loving, loving homage."

"Mmm-hmm," Peter said. "Mmm-hmm. Okay. Then I'll start one called The Empty Space Between Johnny's Ears. Our band logo will be your face with a giant black circle through your forehead. I could get MJ to join, and you know it."

Johnny made a face. "That's a terrible band name, Peter. You suck at this. At least mine's good. It conjures up very pleasant images. And also, hey, I am offended by that. There's lots of stuff between my ears. Brain...y stuff."

"Eh," Peter said. "Are you completely sure about that? I mean, has Reed ever, like, run tests just to make sure?"

"No, because he doesn't have to, and also, at least I know how to tie a tie, Mr. Big Brain."

"Ouch," Peter winced. "Low blow."

"Thanks," Johnny said, flattered. 

Johnny could've sworn Peter nearly smiled back, so Johnny stood there and smiled at Peter with what was probably a pretty stupid look on his face.

Peter, fortunately, broke the spell when he pointed at his as yet untied tie and said, "Tie?"

"So turn around," Johnny said. 

"This better be worth it," Peter grumbled as he obliged. "You had better not have oversold your tie tying abilities."

Johnny walked up behind him slowly. Peter smelled nice. Clean, and a little bit like that very expensive cologne Johnny'd surprise-sprayed him with five minutes ago. Totally worth the dirty look Peter'd given him. 

He looked up to find Peter watching his reflection silently, a shuttered look in his eyes. 

"Right," Johnny said, gathering himself together and clearing his throat. "Tie." He wrapped his arms around Peter and tried to remind himself not to press against Peter too closely.

Maybe this wasn't such a great idea after all.

He forced himself to concentrate, and hoped to god Peter didn't notice that his hands were trembling a little, and dutifully began tying Peter's tie. Slowly, so Peter could remember how to do it. "Just watch what I'm doing."

"Yeah," Peter said, and watched in silence.

"Hey, Pete," Johnny ventured quietly. "Are you--are you sure you're okay with all of this?" The dinner party, he meant. Never hurt to ask. "You've just been...a little tense ever since Sue suggested it."

Peter smiled, probably hoping it was reassuring, but it was tight-lipped and not very convincing. He reached up and wrapped his fingers around Johnny's wrist. Johnny went still and locked eyes with Peter's reflection. "I'm fine. Really."

"It's not too late to call this off, buddy, if you feel like you can't handle it."

"No," Peter said firmly, with a slight shake of his head. "No calling anything off, okay? If we do, Aunt May will just worry, and the whole point of this is for Aunt May to quit worrying about me. I hate it when she worries."

He let go of Johnny's hand.

"She's your mom, Pete," Johnny reminded him softly. "Moms are supposed to worry. I mean, Sue always worries about Franklin and, well, me."

"Yeah, I know," Peter conceded. "I still don't like it. I like it when she's happy, and I hate being the reason why she's not. She took such good care of me when I was younger. I dunno. I guess I just feel should be doing the same for her now, y'know? Not making her miserable." 

"She loves you," Johnny said. "I'm sure she doesn't blame you for anything."

"I know _she_ doesn't," Peter said quietly, letting his eyes fall to the ground. 

"And you shouldn't blame yourself for it either. It's not your fault you're having issues." 

"Issues. Is that what we're calling them now?"

"Should I...call them something different?"

Peter's right shoulder rose and fell slightly. "No. I guess it's as good as anything else."

Johnny looked at Peter, at the tightness in his jaw, the tenseness in shoulders, the quiet sadness that always lingered in the deep wells of his eyes. 

"'S gonna be okay, you know," Johnny found himself saying. Impulsively, he leaned forwards and pressed a quick kiss against the nape of Peter's neck. Peter's breath caught audibly.

Johnny ducked his eyes down to Peter's tie to avoid looking into his face, but even out of the periphery of his vision, he could see that Peter's cheeks were pink.

"What...was that for?" Peter asked uncertainly. 

"I dunno," Johnny said, doggedly keeping his eyes on Peter's tie. "Just felt like it."

Peter didn't say anything, but it certainly didn't escape Johnny's notice that Peter leaned back, almost imperceptibly, towards him, so that Johnny could feel the intoxicating waves of heat rolling off of his body.

"Just remember that it's a family dinner," Johnny said, trying to make himself focus on what he'd been saying. "It's supposed to be fun. If you’re having trouble handling it, it’s okay to say so.”

"It's family dinner," Peter said. "I'm sure I can handle it. What's the worst that could happen?"

"Still. If you feel like you need to get out of there, just say, uh, 'time machine,' and I'll make up an excuse to get you out of there."

"What if we have a conversation about time machines? Reed's been trying to build one, you know."

Johnny rolled his eyes. "Of course he has," he muttered. "Uh, how about 'race car'?"

"Okay," Peter said. "That works."

Johnny nudged at Peter's shoulder so he'd turn around. "Well," he said, as he put the finishing touches on Peter's tie, fingers whispering along Peter's shirt, "all done. Now you're perfect." He smiled warmly at Peter. "Think you got the tie tying down, finally?"

"Yeah," Peter said, averting his eyes. "It's not like it's rocket science or anything."

"Because _that_ you could actually do," Johnny said, still smiling affectionately. "Weirdo."

Peter kept standing there, somewhat awkwardly, not quite meeting Johnny's gaze. He looked very much as though he were trying to screw up the courage to do--or maybe say?-- something.

"Was there...something else you needed help with, Pete?" Johnny ventured.

Without warning, Peter pecked a quick kiss against Johnny's cheek and mumbled something that sounded like, "Thanks."

By the time Johnny gathered his wits together enough to reply, Peter was halfway out the door. 

* * *

Peter stuttered to a halt when he found Mary Jane waiting for them in the hallway.

She raised an eyebrow at him coolly and said, "What got into you?"

"Nothing," Peter said hastily. "Just headin' downstairs."

"You're really wearing that?" Johnny inquired, poking his head over Peter's shoulder. 

Mary Jane squinted at him. "Why shouldn't I?"

"You know Jen's coming, right?" Johnny said. 

"Jen? Here?" Mary Jane asked frantically. "No, I didn't know! Why didn't you tell me?"

Johnny shrugged. "I dunno. I thought you knew?"

"How could I _know_ if you didn't _tell me_?" she demanded angrily.

"Hmm," Johnny said, considering. "Good point. Guess I just forgot?"

Mary Jane glared at him. "We're having a long conversation when this dinner's over," she said, jabbing a finger at him. "That may or may not end with me strangling you."

"Why's it such a big deal that Jen's coming, anyways?" Peter asked. "I didn't even know you knew her."

"Erm. We just met once," Mary Jane said, deftly avoiding answering Peter's question. "Don't know her well. You know, we should probably go downstairs. Sue said she wanted us there ten minutes ago."   

* * *

Peter watched the broad, sharp lines of Johnny's shoulders intently as he strolled along in front of Peter, hands shoved carelessly into his trouser pockets, chatting jovially with Mary Jane.

That was what Peter did now, when he was desperate to drive away the memories that felt as though they were a dead weight around his neck these days. Instead of the tranquil sea-blue of Gwen's eyes, Peter would think about the bright, sparkling azure of Johnny's; instead of Gwen's shimmering blonde hair, he'd remember how smooth and silky Johnny's golden hair had felt beneath his fingers; instead of pink, delicate kisses that tasted of strawberries, he'd think of sunlight, of fire, of a white-hot passion that burned with an intensity that was like nothing Peter had ever known. Instead of losing himself in what he once had, he'd think about what he had now: Johnny. 

He'd tell himself that it was all for the best.

And then the cold dark weight in the pit of his stomach would lessen. It wouldn't vanish--there was nothing Peter'd found that could make it go away entirely--but it would make it grow imperceptibly lighter. 

* * *

Peter sat on the couch and worried as everyone bustled and hustled around him with last minute preparations. Johnny trudged past him with Sue's best silverware, Reed rushed by with a wailing Franklin in his arms, Ben hummed in the kitchen as he prepared the steaks, a white chef's hat perched atop his head, Mary Jane whistled past him in a dress that was completely different than the one she'd been wearing five minutes ago. 

Peter took advantage of their frantic preparations to sit very still and worry.

He worried that he wouldn't be able to handle this.

He worried that he wasn't ready to go to a dinner party when he still felt, most of the time, as though his insides were clawed to shreds.

But he was going through with it, despite his worry. He wanted Aunt May to stop looking at him with that combination of pity and worry that made Peter's heart feel as though it was tearing even farther apart.

He was going to plaster a smile on his face, and convince her and everyone that he was fine, and hope that they couldn't see the truth.

A pair of shiny black shoes entered Peter's plane of vision. Peter glanced up.

"Hey," Johnny said, with a tentative smile. "Come play Scrabble with us. You can beat us and laugh at how terrible we are at it."

Peter's eyes flicked over to Mary Jane, who was sitting on a pillow by the coffee table. She gave him a small cheerful wave. "But you both hate Scrabble."

"But you like it, buddy," Johnny said, tugging at Peter's hand. "Stop being all broody on the couch and come play. Unless you're dead set on doing it all night. Which would totally defeat the purpose of not worrying your aunt."

Peter sighed. "All right, I'll play."

* * *

Peter watched Johnny whenever he thought Johnny wasn't looking, filing every moment away in his memory carefully. 

The sharp cut of his jaw, his crooked smile--that somehow still managed to make Peter's heart beat a little faster every time he saw it--or that soft spot behind his ear that Peter longed press his lips against. 

Peter didn't know how long any of this would last--had learned, through hard experience, that nothing this good ever did--and so he wanted to remember all of it, every second he had with Johnny.

Something waved in front of his face. Johnny's hand. "Earth to Peter," Johnny was saying. "It's your turn."

"Oh," Peter said hastily, feeling a blush creeping up his neck. "Um. Sorry. I was just--"

"--too busy staring creepily at Johnny's neck," Mary Jane finished for him. "Are we sure he's not a vampire?" 

"Nah," Johnny said. "He was hogging my mirror earlier. There was definitely a reflection. Can't be a vampire if you have a reflection."

"Still, he does seem to be staring at you more than usual," Mary Jane said. "Why is that, Petey?"

"I'm not staring," Peter countered, busying himself by picking up his tiles. "At anyone. I was just looking in his direction, is all. While thinking. About things that don't involve him. And, also, mind your own business, Mary Jane."

"That's a lot of excuses," Mary Jane smiled at him. "I'm impressed. Totally convincing."

"That's one hell of a long word you're writing there, Pete," Johnny told him.

Peter looked down at his hand and found that he was holding all seven of his tiles. "Oh. I'm just--just considering options," he said, trying to preserve his dignity. "Don't interrupt my process. I am winning, after all."

"Right," Johnny said, and turned to shoot Mary Jane a wryly amused look.

Mary Jane leaned in and whispered something in Johnny's ear. Johnny covered his mouth with his hand, but Peter could tell he was snickering. 

He knew it was about him, but he chose strategically to ignore both of them, opting instead to study the board intently.

He smirked when he saw that there was a perfect opportunity to write "syzygy." They were both going to hate him after this.

He set the pieces down and looked up at their indignant faces smugly. 

"That," Johnny said, shaking a finger at the board, "is not a real word. No way that's a real word."

"Is so," Peter said. "It's an astronomical term. Look it up. Or better yet, ask Dr. Richards."

"We will," Mary Jane said. She lifted herself up and waved at Reed to attract his attention. "Dr. Richards, sir! Is 'syz--' How do you pronounce that, Pete?"

Peter told her. 

"That a real word?" she asked, pointing at Peter. 

Reed wandered over to them and peered down at the board. "Yes, Ms. Watson, I'm afraid it is." He smiled at Peter, impressed. "Very well done, Mr. Parker." 

Peter smiled up at him. "Thank you, sir," he said.

"Dang it, Reed!" Johnny complained. "You could've lied and said no! Whatever happened to the FF having each other's backs and everything?"

"But it would have been factually incorrect to say it wasn't a word, Jonathan," Reed said, frowning, a trifle bemused. 

Johnny let his head thump down onto the table and said, "I give up," while Peter smirked at him from across the table.

"'S what you get," Ben told him, shaking his head at Johnny. "Fer playin' Scrabble with an egghead. You never wanna do that. Rookie mistake."

"We were cheering Peter up," Johnny explained from where he was trying to become one with the table. "He was being broody, and he likes Scrabble, so we thought it'd be a good idea. Now I know why he likes it. He always wins."

"Well," Ben said, ruffling Peter's hair. "Looks like it worked. The kid looks a lot more cheerful now."

"Has Johnny always been such a sore loser?" Peter asked Ben and Reed. "It's sort of hilarious."

Reed and Ben had a brief but silent conversation.

"Mostly yes," Reed said, turning back to Peter after they settled on an answer. "Although you'd probably have to ask Sue for a definite answer."

"Hey, no fair! I lose gracefully all the time!" Johnny countered. "I lose with the _most_ grace!"

"Eh," Mary Jane said. "I don't think I have ever seen that happen, and Peter beats you all the time at video games. You always sulk."

"He does not beat me all the time," Johnny protested.

"I do a little bit," Peter said.

"Sometimes. You beat me sometimes," Johnny insisted. "Like fifty-fifty, I'd say."

"More like 80-20. Maybe 25," Peter shot back.

"Ouch," Johnny said. "That one stung."

"I don't get it," Mary Jane said. 

* * *

Reed took pity on Johnny and offered to join in their second game. He and Johnny teamed up against Mary Jane and Peter. 

Ben watched from the sides, occasionally giving Johnny and Reed not particularly helpful hints.

Sue wandered by not long later to hand Franklin off to Reed, and shook her head at Peter for being foolish enough to try to play against Reed.

Reed and Johnny won by a handy fifty-three points.

"In your face, losers," Johnny crowed. 

"You don't win very gracefully either," Mary Jane told him dryly. 

"Nope," Peter agreed, shaking his head at Johnny. "He does not."

"We should play a real game next," Ben said. "How's about Monopoly?"

* * *

By the time Aunt May arrived, they were all crowded around the coffee table, their game of Monopoly well underway. 

Peter leapt to his feet the moment he saw her walk through the doorway. "Hey there," he said cheerfully. "How's my favorite lady?"

"Stop with your flattering, dear," she said, smiling at him regardless as she wrapped him in a warm hug. She tutted as she withdrew and felt at his arms beneath his blazer. "You seem skinnier, dear. Have you been eating enough?"

She glanced questioningly over at Sue.

"He's been eating, May," Sue confirmed. "I've been keeping tabs."

"You don't really need to," Johnny snorted. "He eats so much I always wind up wondering where he puts it all. He never gains any weight. I'm jealous. It's so not fair."

"I'm pissed too," Mary Jane said. "He ate all of my ice cream last night. You should talk to him about how it's not very nice to eat other people's food, May."

"Peter Parker, did you eat all of her ice cream?" Aunt May demanded, hands on her hips. 

"Ooo," Johnny tittered. "Peter's in trouble!"

"Oh, grow up," Peter said to him, and then to Aunt May he admitted, "I maybe ate her ice cream."

"There's literally a whole pantry full of food, Peter!" Mary Jane pointed out. "Why pick on my ice cream?"

"To be completely honest," Peter confessed, "I thought it was Johnny's. It was the kind he likes. You should maybe label yours."

"Oh," Mary Jane said, somewhat appeased. "That makes things a little better, I guess. Your thing about eating all of his food is just weird, and I don't know what to make of it, for the record."

"It's just for fun," Peter shrugged. "It doesn't mean anything."

"Oh," Mary Jane said. "And here I thought all this time you were just flirting with him. In a very weird Peter way."

"I sort of always thought that too," Johnny admitted. "It was always a little...territorial?"

"You _weren't_ flirting with him, dear?" Aunt May asked Peter.

"Everyone thought this?" Peter asked, looking around at all of them and feeling more than a little cornered. 

They all nodded. 

"Oh," Peter said, cheeks going a little pink. "Okay. I hadn't, uh, hadn't thought of it like that."

"That's what I love about you, Petey," Mary Jane said wryly. "You're so observant about everything."

Peter pointedly rolled his eyes at her.

* * *

Peter was sitting with his back pressed against the sofa, counting his stacks of money. 

"You filthy capitalist pig," Johnny hissed at Sue from where he was seated next to Peter. "Bankrupting your own brother."

Peter fought down the urge to sigh. Johnny was always so melodramatic. "Cool down, Karl Marx," he said. "Deep breaths. Also, what were you saying about losing gracefully?"

Johnny shot him a dirty look. Peter smiled back innocently.

"I'm teaching you a valuable life lesson, bro," Sue said loftily from across the table as she looked over all of the real estate holdings he'd just handed over. "You need to learn to invest more wisely." She waved a hand at her copious stacks of money. "Like so."

"That is such bullshit, Sue," Johnny scoffed, shaking his head disapprovingly.

" _Language_ ," Sue and Aunt May chided at the same time.

"Right," Johnny said sheepishly. "Uh, sorry." 

Peter leaned over and whispered, "Loser," in Johnny's ear. Johnny opened his mouth to retort, but then Aunt May cooed, from where she was seated behind them on the couch, "He's such a darling little boy."

"Thanks," Johnny said. "I try. It's nice to know someone appreciates my efforts."

Peter raised an eyebrow at him. "She's talking about Franklin, Flamebrain," he said dryly. "She doesn't think you're adorable."

Johnny looked behind him at where Aunt May was sitting on the sofa and scowled. "Dam...ng it."

"Don't worry, dear," Aunt May told him, reaching down to pat his shoulder. "I do so think you're adorable. You're going to make me a very cute son-in-law some day."

"Aunt May!" Peter hissed reproachfully, face flushing red. "Don't--don't _tell_ him things like that."

"What?" she said, unfazed. "He's going to, dear. Just look at him."

That was exactly the last thing Peter wanted to do at the moment. "We're not even dating, Aunt May," he said. "We've been over this."

"Yet, dear," she said. "You're not dating _yet_."

"And even if we do date, it doesn't mean I'm going to marry him. We're only nineteen," Peter pointed out.

"I married the man I was in love with when I was nineteen," Sue pointed out. "It can happen."

"And I wasn't that much older when I started dating your Uncle Ben," Aunt May added.

"Uh," Peter said, not knowing how to get out of this. "Help," he pleaded Johnny.

Given the pleased smirk on Johnny's face, Peter somehow doubted whether he was going to be much help.

"I dunno," Johnny replied, winking at Peter, and Peter just knew he wasn't going to like wherever this was headed. "I always said I'd marry rich. Become a trophy husband. Peter's gonna have to seriously up his game to get a ring on this finger."

"You have never in your life said that," Sue pointed out. "Never."

"It was a secret dream," Johnny explained. "Very secret."

Sue rolled her eyes at him and sighed.

"I don't believe Mr. Parker will have any trouble becoming extremely wealthy once he's earned his doctorate," Reed said graciously. "As a matter of fact, if he'd like to keep working for me once he graduates, I'll give him his own lab and one hell of a salary."

Peter choked. He definitely had never even hoped that Reed would make him such a generous offer.

"Really?" Aunt May asked Reed, pleased. "Do you really think he's got it in him, Dr. Richards? He's always dreamed of being a scientist."

"I'm quite certain of it," Reed smiled. "You've raised a very smart boy, Mrs. Parker. You should be very proud. Besides, it'll be nice to keep it all in the family once those two are married."

Peter couldn't tell whether or not Reed was joking. "Oh, no," he said. "Not you too." 

"Okay," Johnny told Peter. "Reed says you're gonna be rich. So maybe the marriage is back on after all."

"The marriage was never on in the first place!" Peter hissed.

Johnny gasped indignantly and pressed both hands to his chest. "Peter Benjamin Parker, you can't just promise to marry a guy and then take it back. That's just _low_."

"You are having way too much fun with this," Peter said.

Johnny rolled his eyes. "They're just teasing us, Pete. It's not like they're gonna make us get married if we don't want to. And, I mean, look at it this way. Now you know you've got my family's blessing. And I know I've got yours, not that it was ever in doubt, right, Mrs. P?" He twisted his head and grinned up at her.

"Anyone who loves my boy as much as you do," Aunt May told him, "has got my blessing."

"He doesn't have mine," Ben groused. "Not that anyone bothered ta ask me."

"I don't?" Peter asked. "What'd I do?"

"Yer too good for the squirt," Ben said airily, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I just can't let it happen. You'd be throwin' yerself away, kid." 

"Keep it up, you overgrown boulder, and I'm just gonna have to come over there and prove you wrong," Johnny threatened, crossing his arms over his chest. "Set choice parts of you on fire."

"Johnny," Aunt May chided, "you will do no such thing. I will not tolerate that kind of violence. Especially not in front of a child. Think of the example you're setting for your nephew, Jonathan."

"That's right," Ben agreed. "Think o' the children." He tutted at Johnny disapprovingly.

"But he started it!" Johnny protested. 

"He was merely teasing you, young man," she replied. "That doesn't justify the use of violence."

"Aw, man," Johnny complained, sinking down against the couch sulkily.

"How did you do that?" Sue asked Aunt May, flabbergasted. "He actually listened to you. I normally can't do a thing with either of them. You wouldn't believe the amount of property damage they cause."

Johnny rolled his eyes. "I listen to you, you know."

"How many times have I told you to clean your room this past month?" Sue pointed out. "Have you done it yet?"

"That's different," Johnny said, waving a hand dismissively.

"Is your room messy?" Aunt May said disapprovingly. "Jonathan. Clean your room. Tomorrow."

"But--" Johnny started, but was cut off by a warning glance from Aunt May, and thought better of it. "Yes, ma'am," he said instead.

"I'm going to check when I visit on Wednesday," she said.

"Okay," Johnny said. "It'll be clean."

"If it is, I'll teach you how to make those pancakes you like," Aunt May offered. "Peter's favorite ones."

"Yeah?" Johnny said, perking up.

"Yes."

"Cool," Johnny said contentedly. "The place'll be spotless."

"This woman's _clearly_ magic," Sue whispered, awed. "He's cleaning his room, and he's happy about it. Reed, we should maybe have her checked out."

"No, they're just Mom skills," Peter shrugged. "Believe me. I have been on the receiving end many, many times. She's great at it."

"Experience, dear," Aunt May replied. "Sue, I'm certain that by the time your boy gets to be Peter's age, you'll be just as skilled."

"Well, I've already had some practice with a teenager," Sue replied, side-eyeing Johnny. "A very wild, rambunctious teenager."

"I'm not that wild," Johnny protested. "I haven't gotten in trouble in ages." 

"That's true," Sue conceded. "Peter does seem to have calmed you down considerably."

"Ha, ha," Peter teased. "I'm the good influence."

"That just means you're more boring," Johnny pointed out.

* * *

Mary Jane wandered in perhaps five minutes later. Peter was flummoxed. He hadn't even noticed she'd left. He did notice, however, that she had, for the third time that night, changed her dress.

"What?" she said. "What's with the staring, Pete?"

"Isn't that a different dress than the one you were wearing five minutes ago?" Peter asked. "Which was different than the one you were wearing five minutes before that?"

"Maybe," Mary Jane said noncommittally.

"No, it definitely is," Johnny said. "The other one was purple."

"I look better in red," Mary Jane shrugged. "We all know this."

"Your dresses just keep getting shorter," Peter pointed out. "I'm sort of dreading the next one."

"This is the last dress," Mary Jane said, settling down next to Aunt May on the couch. She peered at the board. "Hasn't anyone won yet?"

"Nope," Johnny said, shaking his head. "I lost, though. My own sister bankrupted me. I feel so betrayed."

"Oh, grow up," Sue said. "All's fair in love and war and capitalism, bro."

"I don't think that's how the saying goes," Peter said. 

"I was improving on the original," Sue said.

"I thought it was better, Susan," Reed told her.

"Of course you do," Johnny scoffed. "You're married to her. You have, like, hearts for eyes every time you look at her. Your opinions on all things Sue don't ever count."

"Well, least he doesn't draw hearts everywhere whenever he thinks about a certain someone," Ben pointed out airily. "Unlike some people."

"I only do that sometimes," Johnny protested. 

"You draw hearts when you think about me?" Peter asked. He shook his head and chuckled. "Oh my god, you're so _corny_."

"But it's adorable corny, not lame corny, right?" Johnny said.

"Eh," Peter said. 

"Screw you," Johnny huffed. "I'm totally adorable. Just for that, I'm forgetting our first anniversary when we get married."

"When you get what now?" Mary Jane asked, head snapping over to him. "Uh, when did you two get _engaged_? When did you start _dating_?" She pressed a hand to her forehead. "Oh, my _god_. How long was I _gone_? Dr. Richards, have I fallen into an alternate dimension?"

"We aren't engaged," Peter said. "Everyone's just convinced we're getting married someday, it turns out. Either that or they're just teasing us. I can't figure out which."

"Oh. Can I be a bridesmaid then?" Mary Jane asked.

"We aren't really getting married, MJ," Peter replied.

"But...I want to be a bridesmaid," she said.

"So we should get married just so you can be a bridesmaid?" Peter said.

"Uh...I get the feeling that you want me to say no, but I'm going with yes. That's a genius idea."

"Tell you what," Peter said to her. "If Johnny and I ever do get married, you're my maid of honor."

"Deal," she said instantly. "That is _so_ a deal. I'm holding you to that, just so you know. And I pick the dress, or it's a no go."

"Hey," Johnny protested. "Don't plan our wedding without me. Not cool, Parker. I'm asking Jen to be my maid of honor now, and you can't say no."

"Go right ahead. See if I care. We aren't actually getting married, Johnny," Peter reminded him.

"Well, duh," Johnny sniffed. "You aren't rich enough yet. I refuse to marry anyone who isn't richer than me."

"Nice to know the way to your heart is through your wallet," Peter said dryly.

"Well, we all already know yours is through your stomach," Mary Jane said sweetly. "Especially if blond hair and blue eyes are involved."

Peter narrowed his eyes at her.

* * *

Jen arrived around twenty minutes later, full of apologies over her tardiness. A pack of dinosaurs attacked downtown, she told them, and she was busy rounding up T-rexes and stegosauruses all afternoon.

Her dress was ruined, but on the plus side, she said, she got to punch a few dinosaurs in the face.

Peter was watching Mary Jane from the moment Jen walked into the room. He couldn't help but think that she was behaving very oddly.

She seemed almost...nervous? MJ was never nervous, about anyone, or anything. 

It was almost as though--as though MJ had a crush...but that wasn't possible. As far as he knew, Mary Jane Watson was not interested in women that way.

He wasn't sure what was going on, but he was determined to figure it out, so he decided to keep an eye on them both the rest of the evening till he figured it out.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Peter. Always so emotionally oblivious.


	15. Family Dinner, Part 2: The Pea Plot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for your patience!

Peter was mostly pretty surprised at how well dinner was going. He would've bet good money that something disastrous would've happened by now. 

But no. No cheesy bad guys had attacked the Baxter Building, there'd been no unexpected trips to creepy alternate dimensions like had happened last Wednesday at breakfast, the water hadn't started attacking them like it had last Saturday, nothing had been set on fire (yet) by a certain person who would remain nameless, and everyone was shockingly free of injury.

Everything had been kind of perfect tonight, really. Maybe even a little bit fun.

Which, okay, he had to admit, now he was getting nervous, because maybe he'd just jinxed everything by thinking that. Maybe things were going a little bit _too_ well, and there was no way this wasn't going to end badly, knowing his luck. The Parker luck. Always terrible.

His luck combined with Johnny's? Whose luck, Peter had come to realize after living at the Baxter Building for two months, was just about as bad as his? Disaster surely awaited. It was really only a matter of time.

His fingers clenched tighter around his knife. What was it gonna be? Galactus attacking? Doom? With Peter's feisty but definitely pretty elderly aunt in the thick of it?

She'd probably try to tell Doctor Doom that he needed to behave himself, sit down, eat his vegetables, and stop with all of that megalomaniacal nonsense.

Oh god, what if Doom hurt her or something? She was totally going to get hurt or killed and it was all going to be his fault _again_ —

Peter's train of thought was interrupted when something small and kind of slimy hit the side of his face. He looked around, confused, and even checked the ceiling while he tried to figure out what the hell had hit him.

Finally, he settled on glaring at Johnny suspiciously. He didn't know for sure that Johnny'd had anything to do with it, but, well, he did know Johnny, and odds were he had.

Johnny was at the very least pretending not to notice Peter's menacing glares as he very enthusiastically told Ben about the new car he'd ordered that morning.

He was waving his fork around pretty carelessly while describing the "hella awesome" flame patterns he'd had emblazoned on the doors.

Ben had turned glassy-eyed. He looked profoundly bored by the conversation, rather like he was seriously considering throwing himself out of the nearest window and making a run for it.

As for Johnny? Well, he was going to take someone's eye out with that fork, and it was probably going to be Peter's, and while it would probably grow back, Peter'd have one hell of a lot of explaining to do.

But, then again, Johnny did seem pretty wrapped up in that conversation.

Hmm. Maybe it hadn't been Johnny who'd thrown whatever that was. Maybe Peter'd been imagining things. Peter turned back to his own food and frowned down at his plate. 

Something hit his face again, and, yeah, there was a freaking _pea_ on the table cloth were a pea had not been before.

"Johnny!" Peter snapped, rubbing his hand against his cheek to wipe off the sliminess. "C'mon, stop it! I know it's you!"

Johnny turned and gave him a convincingly confused frown. Hah. He really was good at lying, but Peter wasn't going to be fooled this time, oh no. Fool him once and all of that.

"Stop what, buddy?" Johnny said, a little bit too innocently for Peter to buy it. "I didn't do anything. I was talking to Ben." He slapped a hand against Ben's arm and winced. "Right, Benjy?"

Ben harrumphed. "Leave me outta this," he said grumpily. He turned his back on them—even pointedly turning his chair all the way around, just so they'd know he was in no way interested in involving himself in their shenanigans—and started up a conversation with the more serene and mature Reed instead.

"What do you mean stop what, you jerk?" Peter said indignantly to Johnny. "You've totally been throwing peas at me. Don't pretend!" 

"No, I haven't, buddy," Johnny said placidly. "You're just imagining stuff. Look!" He gestured at his plate. "I still _have_ all of my peas. They're totally untouched. Hence, you must be cra—uh, imagining stuff."

Peter narrowed his eyes at Johnny. "I am _not_ imagining stuff! Look, genius, there's the pea!" He pointed at it with his fork. "My evidence. You are totally guilty."

Johnny looked skeptically at Peter's pea. "It probably just rolled off of your plate, dude." He shook his head, and Peter took a second to imagine, briefly, how wonderful it would feel to web him to the ceiling and leave him there until the webbing dissolved. "You shouldn't be so messy when you eat, Pete. I mean, I've been meaning to talk to you about this, but, well, you can be kind of a slob. My room has been covered in fruit pie wrappers ever since you got here. Not cool, dude."

Hmm. Maybe Peter would web him to the ceiling and then keep re-webbing him for a couple of hours instead. Yeah. That sounded like a much better plan.

"You're the one who sneaks them in for me! And shut up, I'm pretty sure I found a mug full of rotten milk and soggy cereal under your pillow one afternoon, and I sure as hell didn't put it there!"

" _That,_ " Johnny said, not even bothering to deny it, "is totally besides the point. You're a slob, is the point. Don't turn this around on me."

"Well, _you_ stop trying to change the subject! Why are you denying throwing peas at me? I _know_ you did it! There's no _point_ in denying it. Let me ask you this: who else that's sitting at this table right now would've done something _that_ childish? It's not like Dr. Richards or Aunt May have been going around throwing peas at me!"

"Well, you'd be surprised at what Reed's capable of when you piss him off—believe me, me and one of my beautiful, beautiful cars had to learn that the hard way—and I'm denying throwing the peas because I never threw the peas in the first place, Pete. Hey, maybe it's those bugs from the Negative Zone," he suggested brightly. "They break in here all the time and do all kinds of weird stuff. Right, Ben?"

Ben's back stubbornly ignored him. Johnny glared at it, annoyed by its indifference, but nowhere near as annoyed as Peter was currently feeling by the mere fact of Johnny's existence.

"Why the hell would _bugs_ from the Negative Zone throw _peas_ at me, Johnny?" Peter demanded.

"I dunno," Johnny shrugged, unfazed by Peter's attempts at logic. "I don't know why bugs do what they do. You're more of an expert on that."

"For the last time, _spiders aren't bugs_ ," Peter hissed through clenched teeth. "C'mon, there are no bugs. That's ridiculous. Stop making up stupid excuses, and just admit it. You threw peas at me. Why, I sure as hell don't know, but I know you did it."

"There are tons of bugs, Pete. What are you even talking about?"

"I mean in this room."

"Hate to break it to you, but there are probably bugs in this room, Pete. Pretty sure I saw a spider around here somewhere. Maybe, like, sitting on a chair or something."

Johnny was smirking, and Peter was about two seconds away from strangling him. "There aren't any  _bugs_  in this _room_ that have been _throwing peas_ at me," Peter ground out. "There is, on the other hand, a dirty, dirty  _rat_."

Johnny made an outraged noise. "Are you implying I'm a rat?" He shook his head disapprovingly. "That's just mean."

Peter tossed his hands up in the air. "So is throwing peas at me for no damn reason!"

"That was the _bugs_. I told you."

"That's it," Peter said, slamming his hands on the table and getting to his feet.

* * *

Ten seconds later, he had a very screechy Johnny in a headlock and was getting ready to shove a handful of his peas down his throat, while Aunt May and Sue hollered at the top of their lungs at both of them.

"Peter Benjamin Parker!" Aunt May was shouting. "You let go of that boy right now! This is not how I raised you to behave!"

"He deserves the peas, Aunt May!" Peter shouted back. "He's being a jerk!"

"That is no excuse for this sort of behavior!" she hollered back.

"Peter," Sue said, trying to sound calm and holding up her hands placatingly. "Just put the peas back on the plate and step away from my little brother."

"Tell him to apologize for throwing peas at me and maybe I will!" Peter retorted.

Sue stiffened, her eyes flashing with anger. "Jonathan Lowell Spencer Storm!" she yelled, hands going straight to her hips. "Were you _throwing_ _peas_ at Peter?"

"No?" Johnny tried, tugging desperately at the arm Peter had wrapped around his neck in a vain attempt to get him to let go. 

Sue looked like she was getting ready to breathe fire. 

"I mean, I absolutely did not throw peas at Peter. That's just completely ridiculous and unbelievable and why would I?" Johnny added.

"Nobody knows why your brain works the way it works, Flamebrain," Peter snapped. "Or if it even works at all." He tightened his grip around Johnny's neck. "Now apologize for the damn peas!" 

"I didn't do it!" Johnny insisted, sounding like he was choking just a little bit. "It was—"

"Oh, don't you dare say it," Peter said warningly, even though he knew it was coming.

"—the bugs."

"That did it," Peter decided. "Get ready to taste some peas, Storm."

"Nooooo!" Johnny hollered, writhing and kicking his legs. "Not peas! C'mon, dude, anything but peas!"

"You should've thought of that _before_ you decided to throw them at me!" Peter yelled back, trying to force Johnny's jaw open, but he was holding it stubbornly clenched shut.

Peter wasn't sure what happened, but the next thing he knew he was floating in the air in one of Sue's force bubbles.

"Hey!" he shouted, pounding on it as hard as he could. "Let me outta here! I gotta go teach your brother a lesson or two in manners."

Ben shook his head commiseratingly and said, "I been tryin' for years, kid. He never learns."

"That's right," Johnny agreed, straightening his tie and fixing his ruffled hair. "I never learn anything."

He sounded far too proud of himself for such a sad statement. "You shouldn't brag about that, moron!" Peter shouted at him. "Sue, let me out of here!"

"Peter," Sue said, "I'm so sorry about him, really. But I still can't let you shove peas down his throat in the middle of a dinner party. It's just not done."

Aunt May started jabbing a finger at Peter. Oh, boy, that was never a good sign. "You and I are going to have a long talk about this, Peter. This is no way to treat boys you're interested in. You need to treat him with _respect_."

"The only interest I have in Johnny right now is holding him down and ramming my peas down his throat!" Peter bellowed. "And not respecting him at any point!"

"Wow," Mary Jane said. She'd kept eating and drinking calmly, like nothing at all was happening, the entire time Peter had been busy attacking Johnny. She was pretty used to their bickering by now, and mostly ignored it unless her intervention was absolutely necessary. "That got weirdly sexual weirdly fast, am I right?" She smirked over at Jen.

Peter was going to hide all of her shoes, he decided. Or maybe just the left ones.

"Little bit," Jen agreed. She turned to Peter. "Just bang him already," she advised. "Put everyone out of their misery."

Peter felt his face heat up. "I did _not_ mean it that way and you both know it! And I am not banging Johnny!"

"Well, this conversation just took a very depressing turn," Johnny sighed. He rested his chin on his hand dejectedly.

"What way would that be, Petey?" Mary Jane asked sweetly.

Peter knew she was yanking his chain. He'd recognize that tone of voice anywhere. "You know, the, uh, the dirty way," he replied, waving a hand. "I didn't mean that."

"Dammit," Johnny lamented. "More disappointment. 'Cause I was just gonna say, that actually sounded kind of fun, apart from the peas." He smiled up at Peter and winked at him suggestively. "Anytime you want, Parker, I'm game."

Peter's jaw fell open. He was pretty sure he was somewhere in the vicinity of beet red. He couldn't tell if Johnny was joking or not, and that bothered him in more ways than he could count. He managed to stammer out what was mostly a series of incoherent noises. 

Johnny looked very amused by his reaction. "Wait," he said, delighted. "Are you actually considering it? Cause I was totally joking but—"

"No!" Peter said, scowling. "And shut up about that while my aunt is around!" He banged his fist against the force field to emphasize how very, very serious he was about that last point.

"Oh!" Johnny said. "Riiight. I get you. We'll talk later." He winked at Peter again.

Peter groaned and thumped his head against the force field. Sometimes he really, really, really hated Johnny, and this was definitely one of those times.

"Oh, children," Aunt May said in a weary, weary voice.

"Yep, and I'm done with this conversation," Ben said, picking up his plate and heading to the living room. "Stretch, wanna play poker with me?"

Reed looked back and forth between Johnny and Peter, and didn't seem to like what he saw in their faces. "Uh, yes. Yes, that seems, uh, advisable." He fled after Ben.

"You suck at poker!" Johnny shouted at his receding figure. "Ben's gonna steal all your money and we'll be left penniless! But don't forget—you still owe me a new car!"

Reed stiffened and then whirled around and said with all the dignity he could muster, "Jonathan, it was _your_ fault your last car blew up and you know it. You are _not_ getting another car. Your sister already said no. If you don't like it, take it up with her." With that, he turned on his heel and disappeared into the living room after Ben as fast as he could.

He never did like dealing with all of the messy family stuff. It normally fell to Sue, who was, admittedly, much better at it and much scarier.

"It _was_ his fault, darling," Sue called after him, even though he was probably too far away to hear at this point. She crossed her arms and scowled down at Johnny disapprovingly. "It was absolutely your fault that it blew up. You're the one who drove it straight into that robot instead of just parking it like a normal person. You aren't getting another one. That's the fifth car you've blown up this year!"

"And he says I'm a bad driver," Peter muttered to no one in particular.

"I swear, your face is gonna get stuck like that someday," Johnny grumbled at Sue. "Besides, I ordered one this morning, so there."

"You did _what_?!" Sue screeched.

"I ordered a new car this morning," Johnny repeated more slowly. "Please. I _do_ have an expense account."

"But you know you're not supposed to use it for large amounts of money without okaying it with Reed and me first!"

"Apparently there are no _actual_ rules stopping the bank from giving me ridiculous amounts of money anytime I ask now that I'm over eighteen, so." Johnny shrugged. "Who knew?"

Sue pinched the bridge of her nose and seemed to be struggling very hard not to crush her little brother in a force field. Peter had never admired her more.

"C'mon," Peter wheedled. "Let me out and I'll shove peas down his throat. He deserves it and you know it."

Sue snorted. "Tempting. That is very tempting right now, I'll admit."

"Susan," Aunt May said. "Do not let Peter out."

"I know," Sue sighed. "I won't. Darn it."

Peter slid down in the force field and sulked. "You're both so lame," he said. 

"Hey!" Johnny told Sue, wounded. "You're _supposed_ to be on my side, seeing as how you're my sister and all."

Sue sighed. "I _am_ , bro, you just make it really difficult sometimes."

"To not want to hold him down and strangle him?" Peter finished for her. "Yeah, believe me, I sympathize completely."

"Again with the weirdly kinky stuff," Mary Jane said around a mouthful of mashed potatoes. Peter didn't know how she stayed so skinny when she stuffed her face like that, but, well, he was a fine one to talk. "Do you really not hear this?"

"I hear it," Jen said, raising a hand. "I totally hear it."

"Me too," Johnny said, raising his hand. "But I'm really not into choking during sex. Not my thing."

"Ew!" Sue said, sounding completely disgusted and moving to cover her ears. "Oh, my god, Johnny! I can't know that you even know about that! Why do you know about that? No. Never mind. Don't answer that."

"I said I _wasn't_ into it. And it's called the Internet," Johnny said. "And please. I am a sex god. I know all the things."

Sue looked positively green. "Excuse me while I go hurl."

"I don't think you're allowed to decide that you're a sex god. Other people have to say it," Peter pointed out.

"Well, hey, I'd love to get your opinion on that," Johnny smirked.

Everyone groaned at that one.

"That was a terrible line," Mary Jane said. "We need to work on your pick-up lines. Maybe that's why Peter keeps saying no to you. You're terrible at this."

"It was _so_ bad. I knew it was coming, but I couldn't do anything to stop it," Jen groaned. "It was like watching a trainwreck in slow motion." She paused. "Except, you know,  _that_ I could stop."

"It wasn't that bad," Johnny protested.

"Yes, it was," Mary Jane said. "It just was."

"I'm telling you, you should just let me strangle Johnny," Peter told Sue. "It'll solve all of our problems! No more cheesy pick-up lines or pea-throwing or lame jokes. Wouldn't our lives just be so much better? Admit it, don't you all kind of want to strangle him?"

"There's a difference between wanting to strangle him and actually trying to," Sue pointed out. "Has everyone in this room wanted to kill Johnny at one point or another? Probably. But few of us have actually tried."

"I'm going to!" Mary Jane volunteered, raising her hand. "Me. I will. Just—be forewarned."

"What did I do to _you_?" Johnny asked, wounded.

"You stole all of my bras to play a prank on Peter," Mary Jane said dryly. "Or did you forget?"

"That was ages ago," Johnny said, waving a hand. "Ancient history. Don't hold a grudge. Grudges are for losers."

"It was yesterday."

"Oh. Was it? Well, uh, I gave them back, didn't I?"

"They were all dyed neon green for some strange bizarre reason you wouldn't explain."

"It was—it was part of the gag! I needed things for, like, suspension because—and the dye was for—" Johnny cut himself off when he saw the very much not amused expression on Mary Jane's face. "...you maybe had to be there."

"It wasn't funny if you _were_ there either, Flamebrain," Peter cut in.

"What?" Johnny said. "It was hilarious! We laughed for like an hour!"

" _You_ laughed for an hour," Peter corrected. "I did not laugh. At all. I was too busy getting the dye out of my hair. And off my face. Which I only managed because of Reed's gadget."

"You laughed a little bit," Johnny said.

"Only because you tripped," Peter told him. "And landed on your face. In the dye. And had one of Mary Jane's bras dangling off of the back of your shirt. And didn't notice for like half an hour."

"You owe me many new bras," Mary Jane told Johnny. "Also, I'm burning the one that was stuck to your shirt. And all of the ones you touched."

"I touched all of them."

"Well, I guess it's gonna be one hell of a bonfire then."

"Fine," Johnny said, exasperated. "We can buy fancy expensive ones. I'll charge them to my expense account."

"Deal!" Mary Jane said, brightening. "Totally a deal. I might not try to kill you if you do that. Maybe. I'll decide later."

"I will also buy you a new dress?" Johnny tried.

"And a new bikini," Mary Jane said. "For the California trip. I demand polka dots."

"Deal. Satisfied? No more murder plots?"

"Yup. No murdering."

"Guess we're going to the mall tomorrow!" Johnny announced.

"Hell yes!" Mary Jane said, clapping her hands together excitedly. "I love the mall."

"Me too!" Johnny glanced over at Peter. "Unlike _some_ people."

"Can I come too?" Jen said. "I need new office clothes. I go through those like no one's business."

"Yeah, course you can, Shulkie," Johnny said.

"Don't—don't be nice to him," Peter told Mary Jane. "You're _my_ friend. He's currently my nemesis. Again. Be mad at him. Sock him on the jaw. Do it for me."

"But...I need the bras?" Mary Jane said. "He's giving me bras. And a dress. And a bikini. What are you offering?"

"My love and friendship?" Peter tried.

"I've got that already. Try again."

"Um...all of the money currently in my wallet?"

Mary Jane shook her head. "No deal. You can't buy much with one dollar and thirty-seven cents, it turns out, Petey."

"How did you know that's how much I have?"

"I'm nosy," she shrugged.

Peter's eyes narrowed. Why was Mary Jane looking in his wallet?

"You realize that the money in your expense account comes from me and Reed, right?" Sue was saying to Johnny.

Johnny shrugged. "You can afford it," he said flippantly.

Sue buried her hands in her face again. "Oh, my god. That is _not_ the point, baby brother."

"Seriously," Peter offered. "Sue, let me down and just turn around and look the other way, maybe, and I'll give him exactly the pounding he deserves."

"Oh my god," Mary Jane said, throwing up her hands. "Again!"

"We should start a drinking game," Jen suggested. "Take a shot every time Peter says something weirdly sexual about Johnny without noticing it."

Peter groaned. "Just stop already, you guys!"

"I will if you will," Mary Jane replied. "I'm not the one saying homoerotic stuff without noticing. That would be you."

"It's normal stuff to say about people you hate! I haven't said anything weird."

"You do not hate me," Johnny said. "You're just a little mad at me right now because those damn bugs were throwing peas at you. They're trying to drive us apart, Peter, and you're letting them. It's all part of their evil plan!"

"There. Are. No. Bugs!" Peter ground out. "It's a stupid explanation, and if that's the best you can come up with, it's just sad."

"Everyone knows you did it," Mary Jane told Johnny dryly. "Denying it is pointless. Blaming it on space bugs is pathetic."

"I did _not_ do it," Johnny said, glaring at her. "Everyone is wrong. Why would I throw peas at a guy whose pants I'm trying to get into? It doesn't even make sense!"

"I dunno," Mary Jane said. "Maybe you were trying to get him to take his shirt off again. Those schemes never work out the way you want and you should just give it up. He's too stubborn."

"Well, so am I," Johnny said. He narrowed his eyes at Peter. "That shirt's coming off someday. Mark my words, Parker."

"No, it isn't, not even if I have to glue it on. Oh, and also? Apology not accepted," Peter huffed from his perch in the force field. "Mrs. Richards, can you _please_ let me down now?"

"Do you promise not to attack Johnny again?" Sue checked.

"And eat all of your peas," Aunt May said. "I think you should get twice as many now.'

"As long as he doesn't throw anymore peas at me, sure," Peter said. "If he does, deal's off. And do I have to, Aunt May? I hate peas."

"Yes," she said firmly. "They're good for you."

Peter looked unhappy. He really hated peas.

"Well," Sue said. "I guess it's settled then." She pointed warningly at Johnny. "No more peas. I mean it."

Johnny grumbled something under his breath.

Peter didn't try to shove his peas down Johnny's throat again after Sue let him down, but that didn't stop him from imagining it over and over and glaring at Johnny menacingly while he ate those really gross peas.

* * *

Half an hour later, Peter was still sulking, and still mad at Johnny, that rat. 

Everyone else was spread around the living room, talking and laughing pretty raucously and having one hell of a good time.

Not Peter, though. He was too busy being angry at Johnny for being a jerk and not even apologizing for his jerkitude. Why was Peter even surprised? Johnny never apologized for anything.

All he wanted to know was why the hell Johnny'd done it in the first place. What had he done to piss him off? Peter'd just been eating his dinner without bothering anybody. Why had Johnny decided to be an ass all of a sudden?

Peter kind of wanted to join in the fun. He couldn't hear too well over the laughter, but it sounded like the FF were regaling Aunt May, Jen, and MJ with a perfectly rehearsed account of one of their less successful adventures in the Microverse that seemed to involve people thinking Johnny was some kind of sun god. 

Hah. Weren't _they_ idiots. There was nothing godly about Johnny, Peter thought surlily. Really all he needed were horns and a tail and he'd be perfectly suited to be some kind of mischief-making trickster devil person. Maybe for Halloween.

Johnny kept turning to look at Peter, waving for him to come join them. Peter responded by sticking his nose in the air and studiously ignoring him. He deserved a cold shoulder from Peter.

He knew that Doc Sinclair would probably tell him this was self-destructive behavior and he should just forget about his grudge and get in there and have fun, but, well, he didn't feel like forgiving Johnny just yet.

Johnny gave up trying to get Peter to join them after Peter pulled out his phone and started watching funny videos on YouTube. 

The next time Peter looked up, Johnny was gone. He wasn't anywhere in the living room, actually. Peter checked.

He was a little surprised when he felt someone tugging on his sleeve, but was less surprised when he turned around to find that Johnny had ducked into the hallway and circled around behind him. 

It was a sneak attack, and Johnny clearly could not be trusted.

"Psst," Johnny whispered. "Follow me. They're all busy yakking. They won't even notice we're gone."

"Why should I?" Peter hissed, yanking his arm away. "So you can throw more peas at me? Dump a bucket of them on my head? Is that what you're plotting this time? Admit it, you're gonna dump peas on my head!"

Johnny seemed taken aback by the vehemence of his reaction. "What? No! Dude, you guys ate all of the totally disgusting peas, and why the hell did you? 'Cause,  _yuck_. But, like, there are no plots. Well, no pea plots, anyways. I mean, there are other plots. But not, you know, bad ones. Or ones you'd think were bad?"

" _Pea_ plots? What are you even _talking—_ " Peter cut himself off as a thought struck him. A suspicion, really. No, more of a certainty. He put his hands on his hips and scowled. "Jonathan Storm, you complete jackass, were you throwing your peas at me so you wouldn't have to eat them?" 

"Duh," Johnny confessed, like it was the most obvious and unremarkable thing in the world. "How else was I gonna get rid of them? Sue and your aunt were in the room. It's not like there's a dog I can slip them to under the table or something. We don't have a Fantastidog. Although maybe we should, I mean, that'd be cool, right? We could get it a little uniform! I bet chicks would totally dig—"

"Johnny!" Peter hissed. " _Focus_."

"Right! Yeah! I mean, Ben and I have had to get creative about getting rid of food sometimes, y'know? Sue really can't cook. And, like, you're really channeling her right now, buddy, and it's really freaking me out, so how about you stop? It's mostly the look on your face and the tone of your voice, I think. Maybe try dropping your voice an octave so you don't sound like her? Or smile at me, that'd also help. That scowly look is all Sue."

Peter buried his face in his hands for a beat. He needed a break from Johnny, even if it was just temporary. "Johnny," he said through gritted teeth, "did it ever occur to you that you could've just _told_ _me_ what you were doing?"

"I thought you figured it out, dude! Why else were you trying to shove peas down my throat? Weren't you just trying to get rid of them?"

"Because I was—" Peter shouted. Johnny clapped a hand over his mouth to quiet him and stared over at everyone else nervously to see if they noticed. Peter rolled his eyes and lowered his voice once Johnny let go. "Because I was mad at you for  _throwing them_ at me. Why did you think?"

"Oh," Johnny said, which was quickly followed by a frown and an indignant, "Hey! Dude! Not cool. Not cool at all. Peas shouldn't be used in vengeance plots or pranks under any circumstances. I'm pretty sure me and Ben have a rule about that. Peas are cruel and unnecessary punishment."

"But throwing peas at me was fine?"

"You don't understand! I had to get rid of them! I hate peas!" 

"Everyone hates peas! That doesn't mean they get to throw them at people!"

"Well, I wasn't exactly gonna eat them! Who does that?"

"No, you just made _me_ eat twice as many!"

"Hey, that's your fault. Don't blame me for that. You're the one who let your aunt guilt you into eating them. If you'd just played it cool like me you would've gotten out of it completely. That's your mistake, Pete. You let your aunt be the boss of you. Be your own boss, Peter. You're nineteen! You're a grown man now! Act like it!" 

"Oh, like you don't do what she says too," Peter scoffed.

" _I_ didn't eat any peas, now did I?" said Johnny triumphantly. "Now who's the genius?"

Peter put his hands over his face. "Johnny," he pleaded. "Go away now."

"No!" Johnny said. "Stop being a partypooper, Parker, and just follow me. And keep your voice down. I'm totally gonna make up for getting you in trouble, promise. C'mon. I feel bad for making your aunt yell at you."

Peter squinted at Johnny, weighing over whether or not he should trust him enough to play along. The answer was probably no. Then again, he was getting a little bored with the sulking alone against a wall, but he was a little too proud to go over and join in the fun with everyone else like nothing had happened. "Fine," he snapped, making a show of being exasperated. "But this'd better be good."

"It is," Johnny assured him. He took a surreptitious glance around, just to make sure that no one was currently watching, and then gestured with his head for Peter to follow.

Peter sighed. This was a bad, bad, bad idea. Whatever Johnny had up his sleeve, he was sure it was going to end disastrously. He followed Johnny anyhow, against his better judgment. Against all of his judgment, really, good and bad.

He was a little surprised when Johnny led them straight to the kitchen. What the hell was he planning? This didn't bode well. Peter was surprised that his Spidey sense wasn't tingling. 

There had better not be any peas anywhere, or Peter was going to chuck Johnny out of the nearest window. Or dump him in the pool. Yeah, the pool. Johnny would definitely hate that more. It was two stories down, but Peter'd manage it anyways.

"Johnny," he complained. "Why the hell are we in the kitchen?"

Johnny smirked, said, "You'll see," and made a beeline straight for the fridge. He rooted around for something, and then turned to Peter, beaming and triumphantly holding up two bottles of what was unmistakably beer. "Beer, pal. We are here for beer."

"No," Peter said immediately, shaking his head. "I am _not_ letting you get me _drunk_ at a family party. In front of my aunt. Did I mention that my aunt is here and that she is _scary_ when she's angry? Also, your sister would murder both of us, if Aunt May didn't do it first."

"That would be stupid of them," Johnny decided. "And no one'll figure it out as long as you keep your cool, dude."

"I can't—Johnny, you know I'm no good at drinking," Peter tried.

"Dude," Johnny wheedled. "C'mon, you can't let me drink alone! Bros don't let bros drink alone."

"Don't try to guilt trip me into illegal underage drinking!" Peter said.

"But that's the best kind of drinking! It's so much less fun once it's legal and no one cares if you do it. C'mon, you could use the stress relief and you know it."

Peter glared at Johnny resentfully but yanked a bottle out of his hand anyways. "This is peer pressure, just so you know. You're like the bad kid all of the teachers warn other kids about in school."

"Pete, if you don't do bad stuff every now and then, you're just not having any fun. I'm just helping you loosen up and live a little. Having fun never hurt anybody."

"Having fun hurts tons of people. Every day. Drunk driving? People having too much fun. People who die on roller coasters? Also because of fun. Recreational drug use?"

"Okay, well, we just won't drive or go on roller coasters or anything, so it won't be a problem. We'll be fine." He clinked his bottle against Peter's. "Drink up."

He took a swig from his bottle. 

Peter looked down at his beer and thought it over for a second. "What the hell," he said, and took a drink too.

"Oh yeah," Johnny crowed. "Now that's what I'm talking about." He held up a hand for Peter to high-five.

Peter rolled his eyes, but he high-fived him anyways. "I really want to know how you got everyone to think you're such a hero."

"I _am_ a hero."

"You know what I mean."

"It's the face. I have a totally hot face. And body. Everyone loves me the minute they see me. They can't help it, you know. You can't blame them."

"Nah, see, I think it's just the blond hair," Peter countered. "And the blue eyes. People are suckers for blond hair and blue eyes." He paused. "Yeah, they have terrible taste."

"They have amazing taste," Johnny said. "But it's totally the face and the smokin' hot bod. I bet I'd look just as hot with, like, black hair. Maybe even hotter. I'd have a whole smoldering thing going on."

He started smoldering at Peter, but it was more pathetic and decidedly unsexy than anything else. 

"Johnny," Peter said, biting his lip in a vain attempt to keep himself from laughing, "please, for the love of god, stop."

Johnny waggled his eyebrows at Peter. "Why? Am I turning you on, Parker?" He smoldered again and this time added a—what he probably thought was sexy—wink for emphasis.

That did it. Peter couldn't help it. He threw his head back and started to laugh, and no matter how he tried, he couldn't seem to make himself stop.

Johnny shouted at him to stop and called him all sorts of names, but it only made him laugh harder.

"Oh jeez," Peter said, clutching at his sides, when he managed at last to calm down a little. "I don't think I've laughed that hard for ages."

Johnny harrumphed. "I was totally sexy. My smolder is legendary, I'll have you know. There are whole fan sites dedicated to my smolder."

"I'm sure there are," Peter responded. He chuckled a little into his hand. "I just—buddy, I don't think it's for the reasons you think." 

Johnny gave him a look that communicated his displeasure. 

"Because, you know, it's not sexy at all? And, like, _hilariously_ bad, dude! Oh my _god_ , it's so bad!" Peter continued.

Johnny rolled his eyes and gave a long-suffering sigh. "You just never appreciate my sexiness," he complained. "Everybody else does, except the person I want. How is that fair?"

"Life's not fair, buddy," Peter said dourly, good mood vanished as quickly as it had arrived. "Trust me on that one." He took another drink.

Johnny watched him, the slightest hint of concern in his eyes. "Yeah," he said quietly. "Right."

Peter frowned down at his bottle. "Wait a minute. So you're saying that your plan for making up for getting me into trouble is to get me into _more_ trouble by making me drink?"

Johnny groaned. "Come on, Pete. Stop your worrying. You'll only get in trouble if we get caught, dude, and we won't. Trust me. Everything's gonna be fine. I have a plan. No one will know we've been drinking."

"I've heard that from you before. It never ends well."

"Well, this'll be the time it does."

"Somehow I don't believe that."

"O ye of little faith, Parker. Have faith in me." He smiled winningly. "Come on, I am totally trustworthy."

"No. I have _zero_  faith in you, Storm. You _always_ get me into trouble."

"Hey! _You_ get _me_ into trouble," Johnny protested, "and all the time. So let's just call it even."

"When have I ever gotten you into trouble? I don't get you into trouble. _You_ get _me_ into trouble. You've got this backwards."

"Uh, well, for starters, how about the Spidey-Mobile and the zillion times you almost ran over people? I mean, mass murder is something I am firmly against. Or how about driving without a license or any kind of driving lessons? When is that ever a good idea? Or—ooo!—how about stealing Reed's gravity thingamajig so the Spidey-Mobile could drive on walls? Those were all  _your_ ideas and terrible, terrible driving and decision-making, not mine."

"Hey, pal, you're the one who decided to tag along. I didn't force you to. I just asked. Nicely."

"You batted your eyelashes at me. That—that was obvious manipulation."

"I was wearing a mask! You couldn't even _see_ my eyes, much less my eyelashes!" 

Johnny waved a hand. "Metaphorically. You metaphorically batted your eyelashes at me."

"I did _not_."

"You were also wearing very tight clothes at the time, to be fair. And I might not be great at making decisions when you're wearing tight clothes. It's, like, hypnotizing. And, yes, I am talking about your ass." 

"I will totally remember that the next time I need a favor and shamelessly use it against you."

Johnny gave him a betrayed look. "Not fair, dude. Not fair at all."

Peter's eyes widened as he turned towards the hallway. He thought he'd heard—oh god, he had! Footsteps! "Someone's coming!" he said, panicking. "Oh, god, that's Aunt May!" It was pretty obviously her voice. "What do I do with the—" He held out his beer bottle frantically.

Johnny grabbed it and shoved into one of the cupboards. "Act _natural_ ," he said. "Just pretend we weren't doing anything wrong, okay?"

Peter nodded. "Right." 

Natural. He just needed to be natural. He could do that.

He posed by leaning against the counter and laughing awkwardly loud at absolutely nothing. 

Johnny was watching him skeptically. He rolled his eyes at Peter. "Dude, you really suck at this."

"I'm panicking! I'm not a trouble person!" Peter retorted.

"You spent most of your teenage years sneaking out at night so you could beat up lame supervillains in awful costumes! How is _this_ freaking you out?"

"Shut _up_!" Peter hissed. "I don't want my aunt to hear!"

"Don't want me to hear what, dear?" Aunt May asked innocently.

"Erm," Peter said, whirling around and giving her a panicked smile. "Nothing. It's just. This, uh. I mean, well, it's—"

"A surprise, Mrs. P," Johnny said pleasantly. "Pete's just—he's got this thing he's planning and, uh, well, I'm not supposed to say."

Aunt May smiled delighted. "Peter! You really shouldn't have."

"No," Peter said, glaring at Johnny. "I really, really shouldn't have." 

* * *

Aunt May, it turned out, had stopped in the kitchen to fetch a few napkins. She was in and out fairly quickly.

Once she was safely out of earshot, Peter rounded on Johnny and gave him a good hard shove. "What the hell was that?" he demanded. "Now I have to come up with a surprise!"

"Relax," Johnny said, retrieving their beers and handing one to Peter. "We'll figure something out. Bottoms up, dude."

Peter sighed, settled back against the counter, and took a long, long, _long_ drink. 

* * *

Mary Jane wasn't particularly happy when Aunt May asked her to help bake cookies. 

“Why don’t you ask Johnny?” she demanded, throwing her hands up in the air. “I don’t know anything about baking! _He_ actually _likes_ it!”

Aunt May’s eyes flicked over to Johnny and Peter. Unfortunately for everyone currently present—and maybe even everyone in the city, depending on how tonight turned out—they seemed to have made up after their fight at dinner, because now they were sitting together, heads bent, whispering conspiratorially, giggling, and eyeing Ben in a way that didn’t bode well for the continued peace of the evening. 

She very much suspected that Peter and Johnny'd been sneaking drinks behind everyone's back, because they'd disappeared twice that she'd noticed and come back from the direction of the kitchen looking decidedly happier, Peter a tad unsteadier on his feet. She just hoped Aunt May and Sue didn't catch wind of it, or there'd be hell to pay.

Still, she could understand why Aunt May was so reluctant to spoil his mood by stealing Johnny away and making him help in the kitchen.  

Peter's smiles over the last couple of weeks had been a rare, rare sight.  It had hurt her to see him with his face perpetually pale and drawn. That wasn’t the way Peter was supposed to be. Peter had always been smiles and laughter and terrible, terrible jokes.

It had warmed her heart when she saw his smiles begin to emerge slowly, tentatively, over the last few weeks. The tiniest flickers of the person he’d used to be, the person to whom she hoped he could somehow find his way back.

Tonight he was more himself than he had been in a long, long time. It was probably the alcohol.

She rolled her eyes as she turned back to Aunt May, who was gazing at her nephew with a mixture of fondness, worry, and hope in the depths of her eyes. 

Mary Jane gave a long, exasperated sigh. "Okay," she grumbled. "Fine. I'll help."

"Hey," Jen's voice said warmly somewhere behind her, "Mrs. Parker, if you need any help, I'm not bad at that sort of thing."

Aunt May beamed at her. "Why, thank you, Ms. Walters. I would appreciate it." She headed towards the kitchen, clearly expecting Jen and Mary Jane to follow.

Mary Jane turned to smile at Jen, who was sipping leisurely at a pink cocktail. "Thanks," she whispered as they trailed behind Aunt May. "So are you really any good at this stuff?"

"Yeah," Jen replied, giving her a friendly smile. "Aren't you?"

"Phfft," Mary Jane scoffed. "I hate cooking. I'm in college, I'm not supposed to cook. I'm lucky I have a kitchen. Well, it's a pretty tiny kitchen and the stove doesn't really work. I should maybe get that looked at."

Jen flicked her eyes over Mary Jane's slight frame. "Now I get why you're so skinny."

Mary Jane smirked and said, "Nah, that's from all of the partying I do. Dancing all night is great exercise, it turns out."

She pulled out a stool from the counter and carefully arranged herself on it. Jen sat next to her, while Aunt May fiddled with cookie trays on the other side counter.

"Oh, and don't I know it!" Jen said, grinning. "Have you been to that fancy new club that just opened last weekend?"

"I was there yesterday. This boy I met in one of my classes took me there. His family's _very_ well connected and filthy rich, it turns out. He kept trying to buy me stuff, but he's got horrible taste, so I said no." 

"Oh," Jen said, less enthusiastically. "A guy."

"Yeah, but, uh, he's totally boring and stuffy and, worst of all, stuck-up, and I don't think I'm going out with him again," Mary Jane added hastily.

"Really?" Jen said, brightening. "I mean, erm, I'm sorry to hear that. I hope he wasn't too boring. Those dates are the worst."

"No," Mary Jane said. "He just can't dance and kept suggesting I go back to his place and I hate it when boys do that. I went out with him to have fun. It's not all about the sex, you know? I'm not just a notch for his bedpost or anything."

Aunt May jerked around to stare at her, eyes wide. "Well, heavens," she said. "I would hope not, young lady."

"Exactly," Mary Jane agreed. "He should be a notch for _my_ bedpost."

Jen threw her head back and laughed, delighted. "That's the spirit! God knows I've got my fair share of notches."

"Yes, well," Aunt May said. "It's perfectly fine to have fun and all, but there does come a time when you'll want something more secure, Mary Jane. Whatever happened to that nice Harry Osborn? You two seemed to get along famously, but Peter never mentions him anymore."

"He, uh," Mary Jane said, scrambling around for an explanation that wouldn't get her or Peter into trouble, "he just—he left on a trip. We don't know when—when he'll be back or anything. And he and Peter argued, and we broke up, and, well, I don't think he's very happy with either of us right now anyhow."

"He and Peter argued? Over what?" Aunt May inquired, frowning. "Was it about—" Her voice faltered. "About Gwen?"

"No!" Mary Jane said. "I think it had something to do with his dad's death and—well, and Spider-Man."

"Well, Spider-Man is a bit of a hooligan, isn't he? Didn't he kill that nice Mr. Osborn?" 

"I really don't think so," Mary Jane said. She couldn't exactly explain how she knew that.

"I know Spidey," Jen interjected. "We've gone shopping together once or twice." Mary Jane raised her eyebrows at that one. She made a mental note to get the story out of Peter later. "He's really not a bad guy. He's pretty sweet, if a little dorky."

"Try  _v_ _ery_ dorky," Mary Jane muttered under her breath.

"Well, I don't know," Aunt May said. " _The Daily Bugle_ certainly makes him sound like a hooligan, and Peter works there, you know, so there must be some truth to it."

"I don't know about that," Jen disagreed. "J. Jonah Jameson is pretty unreasonable when it comes to Spidey. Everyone in the superhero community agrees on that. Honestly, I think it's downright libelous. If Spidey ever decided to reveal his identity, he'd have quite the case."

"I know he's saved my life once or twice," Mary Jane said. "And Gwen's. Even if he—he didn't, that last time."

"Yes," Aunt May said quietly. Her shoulders sagged as she bent under the weight of the burden of grief she'd been carrying for so many months. "That poor, poor girl. I thought—I really thought—that she was going to be my daughter-in-law one day. I was looking forward to it so. I've always wanted a daughter, you know."

Mary Jane's throat tightened. She'd been so busy worrying about what she and Peter had lost that dreadful day that she'd never stopped to think about what had been stripped away from Aunt May. 

She reached out and put her hand over Aunt May's comfortingly. "Hey," she said kindly. "I'll do daughter things with you if you want. You and my aunt are so close we're practically family anyways. And besides, you might be getting Johnny out of all of this, and he's not so bad, is he? I know he's not a girl, but he lets you teach him how to cook, and he goes shopping with you sometimes, and he knows everything about clothes, and he's just crazy about Peter. It's not so bad, is it, having Johnny and his family around?"

"No," Aunt May said. "Of course not. Johnny's a good boy. Peter'd be lucky to have him." She gave a small, high laugh. "Goodness, look at me, talking about such gloomy topics at a party! If my Ben were here, he'd laugh at me for being a silly old fool."  She took a deep breath and collected herself. "For god's sake, someone talk about something more chipper." 

"Well," Jen ventured. "I do have this—the Avengers, we had this pretty hilarious adventure the other day that went completely sideways. Do you two maybe want to hear about that? Be forewarned: highlights include a naked Iron Man using Cap's shield to cover his fun bits. Which really only worked if you were standing in front of him. I wasn't, for the record. Now there's a sight I'll never unsee."

Mary Jane smiled at her gratefully. "Yeah, tell us about that," she said.

She didn't want to talk about Gwen anymore. Or think about her. Anything but that. Tonight was all about having fun and forgetting all of her cares and woes.

"That sounds entertaining, I suppose," Aunt May said unenthusiastically. She looked at Mary Jane. "It's not too risque for a teenage girl, is it?"

"I'm over eighteen!" Mary Jane protested. "Stop pretending I'm a kid!"

"You are very much a child, dear," Aunt May said. "You're only a little younger than Peter," she sighed wistfully, "and I still remember when Peter used to run around in my backyard like a wild thing like it was yesterday. He was so very small and such a sweet little boy. All hugs and smiles." She shook her head sadly. "Look at the poor dear now. I sometimes wonder if there's something I could have—or should have—done to prevent all this. Perhaps I should have forbidden him from taking pictures of that Spider-Man fellow. He's the one who seems to have gotten Peter into this mess. He's trouble, that one."

"Peter's been smiling plenty tonight," Mary Jane said, deciding it was perhaps best to temporarily let Aunt May keep blaming Spider-Man for her and Peter's troubles. She couldn't exactly explain that it'd been Norman Osborn's fault, after all, not without getting into Peter's secret identity, and Peter would literally strangle her if she did. "He's getting better, really. None of it is your fault. You love him, and he knows that."

Aunt May looked up at her hopefully. "Do you really think he's getting better?" she asked.

"I'm sure of it. Living here and going to therapy have worked wonders. He'll be right as rain in no time. Just watch," Mary Jane assured her. She doubted whether it'd be quite as quick as she was saying, but who knew? 

Aunt May seemed considerably happier after that.

* * *

Baking cookies was much messier than Mary Jane had been led to believe. And it was definitely harder to get the cookies a size Aunt May and Jen approved of than Mary Jane would've thought.

Apparently the cookies had to be really tiny before they were baked? Who knew?

They fell into a nice rhythm of spooning cookies onto trays and gossiping and chatting about everything from how Mary Jane was doing in college to Jen's funnier legal cases to pretty raucous tales from the wild days of Aunt May's youth that Mary Jane had to promise she'd never ever repeat to Peter. 

Hey, baking was kind of fun, Mary Jane thought. 

Mary Jane sort of got it now. It wasn't about the actually making stuff, it was about spending time with other women.  And, you know, stuffing your face with sugary chocolate treats afterwards. 

It wasn't as fun as going clubbing, but it had its merits.

Their peaceful little baking session was cut prematurely short when there was a loud clatter and howls of laughter and screaming and the sound of running footsteps coming from the living room. 

"What on earth is going in there?" Aunt May said, frowning in the direction of the living room. She knew as well as Mary Jane did that Peter and Johnny were probably at fault.

"Here we go again," Mary Jane muttered at the sound of a rapidly approaching pair of footsteps that, sure enough, turned out to be Johnny and Peter, holding hands and looking elated and shrieking with laughter but also running like they were fleeing from the Devil himself.

Johnny tried hauling Peter towards the relative safety of the elevator, but Peter hissed, "No! This way!" and dragged him over towards Aunt May.

Aunt May looked like she was pretty cross with both of them.

"What did you two little hooligans do now?" she demanded, hands on her hips, face black above her pink apron, the one that had fluffy little cupcakes all over it.

"We, uh," Peter said hurriedly, practically tripping over his words, "maybe played a prank on Ben and it maybe didn't go right and you have to protect us Aunt May! He said he was going to clobber us."

"Yeah!" Johnny said, nodding in agreement to everything Peter was saying, as though he'd just caught on to what Peter was up to. "He totally said that, and, uh, we're just two innocent kids, you know, and he's kind of a huge Thing with, like, superstrength, and you—you can't let him clobber us!"

Aunt May snorted. "Innocent kids my foot."

"Aunt May!" Peter said, scandalized. "You aren't going to let him hit us, are you?"

She caved at that. "No," she said. "I suppose not. Although it would serve both of you little troublemakers right. Get behind me now, both of you." She stationed herself well between Peter, Johnny, and any kind of danger that could emerge from the living room.

Mary Jane could already see it in the pose Aunt May struck when she turned around. Mom-mode activated. There was no way even Benjamin J. Grimm, the Thing himself, the man who'd gone up against the likes of Galactus, Annihilus, and Doctor Doom, was getting anywhere near her boys.

As soon as her back was turned, Peter and Johnny fist-bumped. Mary Jane rolled her eyes at them, and they both just grinned at her, looking far too pleased with themselves for getting away with their prank and suckering Aunt May into helping them avoid Ben's wrath.

At first, Ben ran past the doorway, covered in what looked like shaving cream or maybe whipped cream—Peter and Johnny grabbed at each other excitedly at the sight—but he did a double-take and ran into the kitchen when he heard Johnny and Peter's howls of laughter.

Ben growled and ran straight towards them, his face a picture of fury and wrath. If it'd been directed at her, Mary Jane would at least have been a little bit frightened. 

Aunt May put one hand on her hip and held up the other to stop him. "Mr. Grimm!" she said in a commanding voice. "Just what do you think you're doing?"

"I'm gonna murderize Johnny and then I'm gonna murderize your nephew, that's what I'm doing!" Ben shouted, but he screeched to a halt anyways, towering over Aunt May's small frame.

"You will do nothing of the kind," she said imperiously, blocking all of his attempts to get past her. "Mr. Grimm, compose yourself. They are children."

"They ain't children, they're little monsters. And yer kid's gotten just as bad as Johnny, 'cause the squirt's a rotten influence."

"I resent that!" Peter shouted gleefully, rising up on the tips of his toes and stabbing his finger in the air to punctuate his point. "I'm a billion times worse!"

"And I resent _that,_ " Johnny countered, "'cause I'm definitely worse!"

"Are not!" Peter said indignantly.

"Are so!"

"Not!"

"So!"

Aunt May watched the whole clearly drunken exchange with growing apprehension. She stiffened and her eyes flashed with anger when it hit her. "Peter Benjamin Parker," she said wrathfully. "Jonathan Lowell Spencer Storm. Have the two of you been _drinking_?"

They both froze, their argument abruptly forgotten. Mary Jane could see it in their faces. Their lives were flashing before their eyes, and for good reason, given the depth of the scowl that had settled onto Aunt May's face.

Peter shrank back against the counter. "Um," he said. "No?"

"Nope," Johnny intervened, voice smooth and assured. He was a much more practiced liar, that was for certain. "Nuh-uh. We haven't had anything to drink." He held up a hand. "Swear. Would we do a thing like that?" He smiled winningly.

Mary Jane snorted, and everyone turned to look at her. 

"I didn't say anything," she said, holding up her hands. "Leave me out of this."

Aunt May crossed her arms. "Do you know something, young lady?"

"Not a thing," she said, shaking her head. "I am not getting involved in their shenanigans."

Aunt May raised an eyebrow. It was terrifying. Mary Jane caved immediately. 

"I just," Mary Jane found herself saying. "I noticed that there were beers missing from the six-pack in the fridge. Ben's only had one that I've seen. And I haven't seen anyone else drink any."

Aunt May rounded on Peter and Johnny. That was all the evidence she needed. "What do you two have to say for yourselves?"

"Tattletale!" Peter hollered at Mary Jane.

"Yeah!" Johnny said righteously, jabbing a finger in Mary Jane's direction. "Snitches get stitches."

Peter yanked his arm down unceremoniously. "No, no, no, they don't."

"I was just—"

"Johnny, no. No stitches for anyone. Stitches are bad."

Johnny rolled his eyes. "Urgh, fine. Spoil all my fun, why don't you?"

"Like you could even give me stitches if you tried," Mary Jane shot back. "I can take you, Storm. With one hand tied behind my back."

"Now _that_ I would pay to see," Jen said.

"Would mud of some kind be involved?" Peter asked.

"Peter Parker!" Aunt May said disapprovingly. "You _have_ been drinking."

"I was just—" Peter said sheepishly, but he stopped, cowed by the furious look on Aunt May's face. "I am so dead."

"That you are, young man," Aunt May agreed. "Into the living room with both of you scoundrels. We'll take this up with your sister, Johnny."

"Uh," Peter said, raising a finger and staring warily at Ben, who was stationed between them and the exit. "How do we know Ben won't hit us?"

Ben grinned. "I don't hafta, anymore, do I? Whatever your aunt and Suzie come up with'll be a lot worse than anything I could do to ya." He looked down at the mess he was covered in and sighed. "I'm gonna go wash up." He scowled at Peter and Johnny. "Shmendriks," he muttered as he padded away.

* * *

Johnny and Peter were both sitting on the sofa, Peter slouched down with a guilty look on his face, while Johnny, in contrast, was completely nonchalant and maybe even a little bit bored. Peter wished he could be that indifferent about things like being lectured at by Reed, Sue, and Aunt May, but he just couldn't.

Johnny got in trouble all the time, but Peter wasn't used to getting in trouble like this, and he certainly wasn't used to Aunt May being disappointed in him. It was so much worse than when she was angry, he decided.

It must be avoided at all costs.

"So," Aunt May said, dragging up a chair and stationing herself across from them, "would you boys mind telling me what you were thinking?"

"I—" Peter started, scrambling around for an excuse, but he couldn't think of any, so he settled on a lame, "I guess we weren't."

"You know you're too young to drink, Peter," Aunt May said. "We've talked about this. Responsibility. What would your Uncle Ben say if he were here?"

Peter could feel his face burning. That was his whole life, taking responsibility for himself and everyone else in the damn city. Living up to Uncle Ben's creed. But it wasn't like he could tell her that.

She sighed. "I've always thought you were such a good boy, Peter. I simply can't believe you'd take up drinking. And on top of your other issues? This is—it's very worrying. Are you acting out? Am I—am I not giving you enough attention? Should I not have allowed you to move in here? Was it a mistake to not take you in myself? It's not that I don't love you with all my heart, dear, because I do. I just thought—the Richardses have everything money can offer. I thought we were blessed to have their help. Perhaps I was mistaken."

She let her eyes fall to her hands, which were clasped primly together in her lap.

"Aunt May!" Peter said pleadingly. He never could bear to see her sad, and it was especially difficult when he was what had caused it. "No! I haven't taken up drinking. I swear. It was just this once. This doesn't—it doesn't have anything to do with the other stuff. Really. I'm fine here. This isn't your fault." He reached out and put his hand over hers. "It's _not_ your fault. I swear."

Peter heard Johnny mutter, "Great," to himself, before leaning forwards and saying, "This was all _my_ fault, Mrs. P. I talked him into it. He didn't want to. I told him it'd be fine. Don't be mad at him. I did this." He sounded pretty unhappy at being guilted into confessing.

"Oh, _Johnny_ ," Sue said, sinking down onto the couch across from him. "Why would you do this? We've talked about this. _Exactly_ this. Being careful about what you drag Peter into when he's in such a—a delicate state."

"Alcohol can have highly deleterious effects on the brain while it is still in a developmental stage, as yours are," Reed chided, hands stuck in his coat pockets, sounding every bit the professor. "Drinking at your age is simply inadvisable. Laws against underage drinking exist for a reason, Jonathan. Your sister and I are both very disappointed in you."

"Then be disappointed," Johnny said defiantly. "I'm not sorry for what I did." He slapped a hand against Peter's shoulder. "I was just helping Pete here loosen up and stuff. He was nervous about tonight. I was distracting him. Because I'm, you know, awesome and all of that."

Oh. Peter suddenly understood everything that had happened tonight. It had all been Johnny's very unique—not to mention completely and utterly exasperating—way of helping Peter. It was sort of sweet and well-intentioned, even if it was also misguided and irritating. 

"You were distracting him by plying him with alcohol and playing pranks on him?" Aunt May said, frowning. "Johnny, I don't understand why you would think that was helpful."

"Because I know Pete, and it _worked_. Mostly. He was having a lot of fun until you guys figured out what we were up to," Johnny informed her. "I'm not sorry I did it, and I'd do it again in a heartbeat. I mean, Pete was actually laughing and having a good time, or didn't you notice?"

"Ben was mad and covered in shaving cream," Peter said defensively. "It was funny."

"Yeah, it was hilarious, buddy," Johnny agreed. "And we could cover Ben in shaving cream every day if you wanted to. You just never feel up to it, but tonight you did, and it was all 'cause of me. I take all of the credit."

"Please don't do that to Ben," Reed said. "It's a terrible idea, Johnny."

"Fine, we could do other hilarious things to Ben every day," Johnny said. He looked straight into Reed's eyes and added, " _And_ Reed too. We could get Ben to help. I'm sure he'd be down to prank Reed. He always is."

Johnny smirked.

Reed narrowed his eyes at Johnny. Peter honestly didn't think he wanted to get on his bad side. Especially since he sort of worked for him and could get fired. Probably.

"I think it probably had more to do with the therapy than you, Johnny," Peter told him. "And me. And Doc Sinclair."

"Nah," Johnny said. "It's totally 'cause of me."

Peter couldn't exactly deny that Johnny had, in fact, helped enormously during Peter's slow recovery, even if he—or rather, the confusing whirl of emotion Peter felt every time he looked at Johnny—had also been what had triggered Peter's downward spiral in the first place.

Johnny really had gone out of his way to be sweet and patient with Peter, and if the last two months had taught Peter anything, it was that Johnny wasn't going anywhere, that no matter how much Peter hated himself, Johnny never would. Johnny would always think the best of him, even if all Peter could see was the worst.

That had helped. Learning to see himself a little more the way Johnny did, even though at first he hadn't been able to understand how it was possible that anyone could think he was so wonderful. Most of the time he still couldn't, but he was trying.

"I'm probably not going to be able to talk you out of thinking that," Peter decided, "so I won't even try."

"Smart," Johnny said. He raised an eyebrow at Sue, Reed, and Aunt May. "So? What are you guys gonna do? What's our punishment? Lay it on me."

Aunt May smoothed a hand across her skirt and then glanced up at Reed and Sue. "Let's discuss this in the next room," she said. She turned back to Johnny and Peter. "You two, don't move."

Peter nodded, Johnny shrugged.

Once Aunt May, Reed, and Sue were whispering over in the kitchen, and Peter realized he couldn't hear any of what they were saying no matter how hard he tried, he turned to Johnny. "Oh, Pete, we won't get in trouble, oh no. Not a chance," he said bitterly. 

"How was I supposed to know your aunt could tell when people are a tiny bit buzzed? She's like an alcohol cop," Johnny protested.

"I am so stupid for listening to you," Peter groaned, burying his face in his hands. "Why did I listen to you? Why do I ever listen to you? It never ends well."

"It was fun for awhile there, wasn't it? I mean, I got you to help me play a prank on Ben. And you were laughing a lot."

"Okay, Ben's face was pretty funny," Peter admitted, smiling a little at the memory. "But I'm still pissed you got me in trouble. Twice. In one night."

"I was just trying to help," Johnny objected.

"Well, dude, I appreciate the sentiment, but your methods totally suck."

"This is the thanks I get. All of the adults mad at me, just so you'll have a good time, and you make fun of me for it. What did I expect?" He sighed. "It's so hard being me."

"You threw peas at my face, Johnny."

He tossed his hands in the air. "You were getting all tense and anxious! I could tell! I couldn't think of any other way of distracting you!"

"You could've just talked to me," Peter said dryly. "Or was that too obvious?"

"You get tetchy when you're nervous, Pete. I thought getting you mad would make things better, you know? Distract you."

Peter snorted and shook his head. "Oh, Johnny," he said, even though it came out a little more fond than he'd meant it to. "What _am_ I going to do with you?"

"I have a list," Johnny informed him. "Of suggestions. A long list. A _really_ long list."

Peter frowned, trying to figure out what Johnny meant. His eyes widened when he realized. "Oh! You mean...uh." He lowered his voice. "Of sex stuff?"

The corners of Johnny's lips quirked upwards. "Yeah, Pete. Sex. You know. The thing adults do when they like each other."

Peter scowled. "I know what sex is, jerk."

"I don't think I believe you. Prove it," Johnny said.

"Nice try. I'm not having sex with you, Johnny."

"Dammit," Johnny said, snapping his fingers, mock disappointed. "I was so close."

"No, you weren't," Peter said.

"Well, hey," Johnny said. "Just so you know, there's always a party in my pants, and you're always invited."

Peter made a face. "That's a terrible line. Has it ever actually worked with anyone before?"

"Crystal laughed so hard milk came out of her nose," Johnny reminisced. "It was hilarious. And then we had sex in the shower. So it totally worked, jerk."

Peter rolled his eyes. "Of course it did. And dude? Stop telling me about having sex with your exes. I so don't want to hear it. It's just weird."

Johnny looked delighted. "Peter Benjamin Parker," he crowed. "Are you jealous right now? Is that what's happening?"

"No," Peter scoffed. "Of course not. I am not jealous. I know you've had sex with people before. That's fine. I just don't want to hear about it."

"Of course you don't. Because it makes you jealous."

"Crystal's married. To someone who is not you. I'm really not jealous. There is no reason to be jealous." 

"Then why don't you want to hear it?"

"Do I need a reason?"

"Yes."

"I just don't like it, okay?"

"Because you're jealous."

Peter scrunched his eyes shut. "I give up," he said. "Yep. I give up."

"Because I'm right," Johnny whispered. "I knew it."

"More like you're annoying. But you probably know that too."

"You're just mad because I figured you out," Johnny said loftily. "I'm too smart for you, Parker. Don't let anyone ever tell you different."

Peter fought down the urge to strangle Johnny. "Sue would be mad," he muttered to himself. "Sue would be mad. Don't make Sue mad. Madder."

* * *

When Aunt May, Sue, and Reed came back, Johnny was unfortunately still alive. It had taken every ounce of Peter's self-control, but somehow he'd managed it.

Aunt May told them that their punishment would be cleaning out the hangar from top to bottom.

Johnny groaned. "I hate cleaning the hangar. No, wait. I just hate cleaning."

"Hence it being a punishment, genius," Peter said. He smiled at Aunt May, and thought he'd gotten off easy. "We'll clean it. It'll be spotless. Promise. It's my responsibility."

Aunt May smiled back. "Good. Your uncle would be proud, I'm sure. Now come give me a hug, dear."

"Aunt May!" Peter said. "Not in front of everybody."

"They won't mind, Peter dear. Now get over here."

She held out her arms, and Peter sighed and gave in.

She clutched at him so tightly he could hardly breathe. Peter shut his eyes and hugged back, and breathed in the familiar, homey smell of lavender and cinnamon that suffused all of Aunt May's clothes. It always made him feel like he was a kid again, sitting in Aunt May's lap before bedtime as she read him his favorite stories, and Uncle Ben smoked a cigar in his arm chair while making faces at Peter to get him to laugh without Aunt May noticing. Those had been some of the happiest days in his life, now that he thought of it. Everything perfect, the world whole and unblemished and so very different from the way it seemed now.

Peter pulled back and smiled down at Aunt May, and pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head. "I'm really sorry," he said.

"I know you are, darling," Aunt May said, patting his cheek and smiling too. "Don't do it again, do you hear me?"

"Yes, ma'am," Peter said.

"Hey, don't I get a hug?" Johnny said. "I think I deserve a hug. You know. For my selflessness."

Sue gave him a cool look. "Do you really want me to hug you or are you just kidding?"

"I didn't mean from you," Johnny scoffed. "I meant from Aunt May. I like her better."

Sue tilted her head back and stared up at the ceiling. "Don't put him in a force field and suffocate him, don't suffocate him, don't suffocate him," she repeated to herself.

Reed put his arm around her consolingly. "Just ignore him, dear."

"Of course you can have a hug, Johnny," Aunt May said. "Any time you want."

"Hell yes," Johnny said, pumping his fist in the air. He got to his feet and scooped her up into a hug. "And just so you know, that means there'll be a lot of hugs now."

"Hey," Peter said, scowling. "She's my aunt, you jerk. Get your own."

"But I like yours," Johnny said, setting Aunt May down gently and smiling down at her. "Can I have her?"

"No," Peter said. "Absolutely not. Stop trying to steal her away from me."

"Maybe we could share," Johnny suggested.

"Well, dear, I have a solution," Aunt May said, holding up a finger.

"Do you?" Johnny smiled.

"All you have to do is marry my Peter, and then I really will be your aunt," she said.

Johnny threw his head back and laughed. "Well, I gotta tell you, Mrs. P, I am game. Convince your nephew."

"No," Peter said. "We're not even dating, dummy. No. And now that I know you're only marrying me for my aunt, definitely not."

"Hey, Reed?" Johnny said. "How are you doing with human cloning? I have someone I need you to clone for me, because some people are being buttheads."

"Well, I—" Reed started.

"Don't—don't answer that, Reed," Sue whispered at him.

"Oh," Reed said, flustered. "All right."

"No," Johnny said. "I'm serious. Really. Everyone should have one."

"Stop, you flatterer," Aunt May laughed, sounding very pleased.

* * *

"Think we should risk going into the living room yet?" Mary Jane asked Jen as she dipped a chocolate chip cookie in a glass of milk. They were sitting at the kitchen table and taking advantage of the commotion to get first pick of the cookies.

Jen raised her head and listened intently to the sounds coming from the living room. "Nah," she said, shaking her head. "Sounds like they're still arguing. Hand me a snickerdoodle, would you?"

Mary Jane passed the tray over. "Guess we'll just have to stay here and eat all of these cookies." She sighed. "What a shame."

Jen laughed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next: Johnny and Peter try babysitting Franklin! It goes disastrously. The Baxter Building may or may not be left standing when they're done.


	16. Johnny and Peter's Adventures in Babysitting, Pt. 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was getting long, so I cut it in half. Hope you all like it!

Peter was sitting cross-legged on the floor of his bedroom. Arrayed around him was a mess of disassembled machinery, spread out carefully on a few filthy towels in what was surely a vain attempt to keep the carpet clean.

Peter was huddled in the middle of the circuits and wires, fingers flying across the small nondescript machine with which he was tinkering.

He liked keeping his hands busy, especially late at night, after everyone else had wound their way to their beds. Peter had yet to accustom himself to the luxury of being able to sleep through an entire night uninterrupted. His body was so used to clocking in two hours of sleep here, three there, then fourteen the next, that he simply couldn’t return to a regular sleep cycle. 

Presently, it was three in the morning, and everyone else was snoring away—in Ben’s case, very, very loudly. Peter could hear him clearly from two doors down.

Reed would oftentimes awaken in the middle of the night and rise unexpectedly in order to trundle down to his lab and work on whatever idea had sent his brain ticking away and driven sleep away. He usually allowed Peter to accompany him, and Peter suspected they were both glad for the company.

Peter enjoyed the peace and solitude some nights. The Baxter Building was all noise and bustle and endless movement. Peter couldn't understand how Johnny made sense of this chaos. 

The months since Peter had moved into the Baxter Building, by and large, had been unbearably difficult for Peter. Recovery, it turned out, was somehow more difficult than the grief and mourning had been.

It had been easy to obsess over his many, many mistakes, easy to hate himself, easy to tell himself he didn’t deserve love or kindness, easy to make himself numb to everything, easy to allow himself to sink into the darkness.

Doing the opposite, fighting against what his heart was telling him he deserved, letting himself feel every wound, as fresh and sharp as though they had been inflicted only yesterday—that, Peter thought on the worst days, was harder than going toe-to-toe with the Green Goblin. As painful as that could be in the moment, at least it was over relatively quickly. _This_ was slow, unrelenting torture.

There were times when all Peter wanted to do was throw up his hands and call it a day. But then he’d remind himself that he was a Parker and if there was one thing Parkers never did, it was giving up. Aunt May, though only a Parker by marriage, certainly hadn’t given up after her husband of over fifty years had died in her arms. They’d spent a lifetime together, but still, she’d gotten back up on her feet and carved out a life for herself. She had pursued her own interests, found meaning in her friendships, consoled herself with her love for her adopted son.

Peter wouldn’t allow himself to do any less. Every time he felt like giving up, he’d tell himself he had to be as brave and as strong as Aunt May, and then he’d square his shoulders and weather through whatever was difficulty he was facing. 

Never give up. That should be the Parker motto. Keeping hammering away relentlessly and eventually you would inexorably arrive at the outcome you desired.

Some days were far, far worse than others, admittedly, but Peter managed to carve out some semblance of peace for himself in the spaces in-between.

At times there’d be flickers of happiness, especially if Johnny or Mary Jane were nearby, that Peter would struggle to cling to, but it was as impossible as holding a wisp of smoke in the palm of his hand.

He wasn’t the same person he’d been before Gwen had died. He knew that. He acknowledged it. He owned it. He was someone different now, and coming to terms with this new him was a difficult process.

He knew he’d lost much that he’d never be able to recover.

He’d lost some of his patience, some of his capacity for joy and pleasure, and all of the hope and innocence he had left.

Well. Doctor Sinclair called him on that a lot in therapy. His tendency to focus on what he’d lost instead of all that he had now and to berate himself for failing to keep his life fixed and unchanging.

“Life isn’t like that,” she’d tell him. “Change, loss, death, they are all part of life. Your uncle’s death, your girlfriend’s, your best friend’s spiral into drugs and mental instability—they were tragedies, yes, but none of them were your fault. Telling yourself they were isn’t helping anybody. One of our longterm goals is going to be moving you past that type of thinking. I’ve noticed that you have a bit of a hero complex, and a bad habit of taking on personal responsibility for events and for the actions of others that were beyond your control. That's unhealthy behavior.”

“With great power comes great responsibility,” he’d replied stubbornly. “My uncle always used to say that.”

“Are there limits to that power?” she’d asked, sharp as a tack, without missing a beat. “If so, there must be limits to the responsibility you bear as well. I need you to realize that, Peter. You are only human, after all.”

That had brought Peter up short. He still hadn’t quite been able to formulate an adequate rebuttal. Was it possible that she was right?

He had done everything he could to save Gwen. He would have given his life to save hers, in a heartbeat. He still would, if he thought it would bring her back. Did that mean that he could stop holding himself accountable for his failure?

Peter had yet to figure out the answer to that. He supposed, rationally, that Doc Sinclair was right, but at the same time, he hadn’t precisely been able to forgive himself. It was one thing to know something, it was entirely another to feel and accept it.

As he looked around the life he’d built from the ruins of the old, he had to admit she perhaps had a point also on the problems inherent to fixating on the past.

Certainly, he’d lost Uncle Ben, he’d lost Gwen, he’d lost Harry, but he still had Aunt May and Mary Jane, and he’d gained Johnny and his family.

Having the FF on your side wasn’t so bad, really.

He and Sue were taking cooking classes together every Wednesday. Peter wasn’t very good at it, but it was one of his therapy homework assignments to start trying out new activities. Johnny had actually eaten the food Peter brought back at first—or pretended to, at least—until Peter’d caught him sneaking cookies into his pocket instead of eating them.

“They’re as hard as hockey pucks, Pete!” Johnny’d hollered. “Did you really expect me to eat them? You baked them too long, dude. You have to take them out right when the timer rings, or this is what happens.”

He'd thunked the cookie down on the counter to prove his point. It hadn't crumbled at all.

Peter’d also been learning poker from Ben (despite Sue’s admonishments about setting examples and not encouraging gambling), driving from a very reluctant, often petrified Johnny, dancing from Mary Jane, and, well, everything science-related from Reed.

Reed was the only one of the bunch who gave him homework and reading assignments. It didn't bother Peter because it was interesting and, better yet, it kept him busy. Also there was the fact that Reed had agreed to take him back as his intern, once Peter had said he felt up to it again.

His first day back at work had been, in a word, spectacular. Reed had invented a new form of explosive he said would be very useful in demolitions. Of course, that meant he had to experiment with it and document its precise effects on a wide variety of materials.

Really it had been an excuse for him and Peter to spend a day blowing things up.

Peter had appreciated the gesture.

That had definitely been one of the best days, even if they had gotten a little carried away and nearly blown up one of Johnny’s prized motorcycles before Sue stopped them. And then Sue had blown it up instead, and shamelessly blamed it on Reed and Peter.

As for his relationship with Johnny…Peter’s fingers paused on the wires they were in the midst of connecting. Well, Peter wasn’t sure what he was going to do about him. He was still caught in that dizzying dance between wanting and not wanting, teetering somewhere on the verge of what might become love, if he would only let it.

But it was hard, it was _so_ hard, letting go of Gwen and his dreams of what might have been.

It was only recently that he’d begun allowing his mind wander to what a life with Johnny might be like in the long run. Danger, adventure, excitement at every turn.

Life here at the Baxter Building was a bit of preview of the life he could have with Johnny. Things around here…they were never dull and never lonely. Peter liked it.

Last week at breakfast he and Mary Jane and Johnny had wound up tripping through a dimensional portal Reed had accidentally created, and wound up on an alternate Earth where Mary Jane’s alter ego ruled as the god-empress of the planet, and Peter and Johnny’s were her faithful consorts. Like, romantically. In a weird sort threesome. That had been unsettling.

But generally, Peter thought Johnny’s life, when not being attacked by supervillians, was like something out of a dream. Never having to worry about where his next meal was coming from, the ability to purchase anything his heart desired on a whim, the attention, the popularity—from the outside, Peter had thought it blessed. Lucky. From the inside? Doubly so.

It almost felt like cheating. Surreal, like this wasn’t real life. Like this wasn’t _Peter’s_ real life, that was for certain. Like it was all still waiting for him out there. All of the horror and tragedy that had dogged each and every one of his footsteps, that had claimed the lives or happiness of everyone around him.

It was like they were living in some kind of, well, castle. Removed from the normal person. And Johnny was like…some kind of prince.

An image of Johnny in one of those outfits with the poofy Renaissance-era sleeves popped into Peter’s head. He snorted, and then cursed and sucked on his thumb when the screwdriver he’d been using slipped and speared his finger.

He frowned at his thumb. There was blood, but it wasn’t bad.

There was a knock on the door of Peter’s bedroom that Peter recognized as Johnny’s. “Yeah?” he said.

He was surprised Johnny was still awake, but then again he could be a bit of an insomniac too.

“Can I come in?” Johnny said. “Pete, you gotta let me in. I gotta talk to you. It’s urgent.”

Peter frowned. There was an unexpected urgency and seriousness in the tenor of Johnny’s voice. “What’s up, buddy?” he hedged. “Something wrong?”

“Let me in and I’ll explain,” Johnny said.

Peter glanced around at the junk he had spread out around his room.

The thing was, Sue had a strict rule. No sciencing in the living quarters. That was for the lab and Johnny’s workshop only.

Whatever. Johnny probably wasn’t going to tell. Peter sighed and said, “Fine, come in.”

The door clicked open and Johnny padded in, barefoot and in pajamas. His Spider-Man ones. He had at least three different pairs of Spidey pjs that Peter’d noticed so far, and he seemed to think wearing them around Peter was hilarious.

Johnny stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Peter’s mess. His eyes widened, and then rose to meet Peter’s.

“Yeah, yeah,” Peter said dismissively. “Just don’t tell Sue.”

“Dude,” Johnny said. “She’s gonna find out. She always does.”

“This is the fourth time I’ve done this, and she hasn’t yet,” Peter pointed out.

Johnny shrugged. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

He strolled over, flopped down onto Peter’s bed, and stared fixedly up at the ceiling. Peter could see only the top of his head from his vantage point on the floor.

Johnny sighed. It was a melodramatic sigh. Peter had learned to dread those.

Peter refused to ask him why he was sighing.

Johnny sighed again, and this time it was rather pointed.

Peter rolled his eyes, but didn’t say anything. Just kept fiddling with his screwdriver, like Johnny wasn’t even there.

“Aren’t you going to ask me why I’m sighing?” Johnny asked, tired of waiting for Peter to get the hint.

“No,” Peter said. “But you’re going to tell me anyways, aren’t you?”

“Sue wants me to babysit for her on Friday,” Johnny said, as though it was the worst thing in the world.

Peter looked up at Johnny, genuinely surprised. He found that Johnny had rolled over and was staring dejectedly down at Peter now. “Alone? She’s actually trusting you enough to leave you alone with her kid? How does she know you won’t blow him up or drop him out of a window or something?”

“Exactly what I said!” Johnny agreed, tossing up his hands. He got to his feet and started pacing. “I am _not_ a responsible person! What is she _thinking_? I mean, I’ve helped babysit Franklin before, but Benjy or Alicia were always here to make sure I didn’t do anything too stupid. But they’re gonna have dinner with one of her friends, so they can’t make it either. Which leaves me.” Johnny’s nose scrunched up. “Sue gave me this long talk about responsibility and how important it is to help out around here and how we’re a family and that means helping each other out. And then she shouted something about how she’s been taking care of me for the last twenty years, so it was about time I found out what it’s like taking care of a child.”

“Ouch. Harsh,” Peter said. “Responsibility. What a terrible concept.”

“I know,” Johnny sighed, barreling right past Peter’s sarcasm. “Responsibility is for losers. Like you. I’m cool. I should just have fun all the time.”

Peter gave him a look. His patented ‘drop dead’ look. “You’re not that cool, and it doesn’t work that way.”

“You wouldn’t know cool if it kissed you on the mouth." Johnny stopped his pacing and grinned down at Peter. "And by the way, can I?”

Peter burst out laughing at the sheer brazenness of it all. “Nope,” he said. “Not a chance, nice try.”

Johnny sighed and sagged back down onto the bed, hand pressed to his forehead. What a drama queen.

“My life sucks,” he sighed. “I have to babysit and you won’t kiss me. Even when I spend _hours_ coming up with ways to get you to kiss me.”

“That took you hours?” Peter scoffed. “That’s just sad. I feel sorry for you now.”

“Don’t judge, Pete. I’m running out of ideas.”

Peter rolled his eyes.

“Also I bought some new jeans yesterday, but Mary Jane and Jen say they make me look twenty pounds heavier. Which is just a nice way of saying fat. They might've been kidding, but I think I’m gonna burn the jeans anyways. On the roof. Maybe throw a party to celebrate.”

“Why don’t you just return them and buy new ones?”

“Because burning them’s more satisfying?”

“I don’t think I wanna ask how much they cost.”

“Probably not.”

“Wait a second,” Peter said suspiciously as a horrid, horrid thought struck him. “Why did you come here and tell me that?”

“I’m complaining, Peter. Keep up.”

“No, I mean why’d you tell me about the babysitting thing?”

“Because you’re my best friend and my buddy, and you know I’ve always got your back, right?” Johnny said, smiling in that much-too-charming way that normally made Peter’s heart go a little fluttery.

Not tonight, though. Tonight it was accompanied by a steadily sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. “What do you want, Johnny?” Peter said.

He didn’t think he was going to like the answer.

“I want you to help me watch Franklin,” Johnny announced. “Duh.”

“I don’t know anything about kids, Johnny,” Peter said immediately. “Only child. I won’t be any help.”

“That’s okay,” Johnny said. “I mostly want you around to keep me from doing anything stupid.”

Peter pursed his lips and considered it. “Fine,” he said. “But I’m not changing any diapers, Johnny Storm. Not even one. I. Will. Not.” He jabbed his finger at Johnny with every new syllable to emphasize his point.

“That’s cool, bro. I’ll change all the diapers.” Johnny grinned. “And, hey, did I mention that Mary Jane and Jen are going out to the movies? So it’ll just be you and me, all alone here once Franklin’s asleep. Imagine all the trouble we can get into.”

His tone of voice was suggestive. Peter’s brows pulled downwards. Was Johnny insinuating that he and Peter should fool around while everyone else was out? “Um. What kind of trouble are we talking about here?”

While Peter was talking, Johnny had gotten to his feet and started heading towards the door. “Oh, you know,” he said airily. “Just trouble.” He paused before he shut the door, and looked pointedly at Peter’s greasy hands and the pile of parts arrayed in front of him. “Sue really is going to kill you for that, you know. Force field in the brain, and splat!”

“She’s not going to kill me,” Peter said flatly.

“If you say so,” Johnny shrugged, and shut the door.

* * *

Sue found out. It was the grease-covered towels that gave it away.

“Told you,” Johnny whispered smugly while Sue yelled. “She always finds out. She’s like a bloodhound.”

Sue graciously refrained from murdering Peter, but she did make him do dishes for a week. Peter really would’ve preferred a force field to the brain. Wrinkly hands were the worst.

It didn’t help that Mary Jane and Johnny intentionally used more dishes than necessary, just to mess with him. It’s not like a family of five and two guests didn’t produce more than enough dishes already.

Why the hell hadn’t Reed installed a dishwasher by now?

When Peter asked him later, during his shift at the lab, Reed admitted, “Sue won’t let me. The last time I did it I…perhaps got a little creative, and it didn’t work out quite as I’d planned. I admit that.” He lowered his voice. “Our mouths turned blue for two weeks, and we had to throw all of the plates out." He winced. "Including several that were wedding gifts. We also had to cancel our public appearances. Including my lecture series at ESU. That was upsetting. Sue was livid, of course. Well, in my defense, it was all an unfortunate side effect. It really shouldn’t have happened. I still don’t entirely understand why it did.”

“Was Johnny’s mouth blue too?” Peter asked. That was clearly the important question here.

“Yes, thought it didn’t last quite as long,” Reed said absently, mind ticking away on what was probably ways to fix the dishwasher.

“Please tell me there are pictures.”

Reed looked up at him, amused, as he caught on. “There are pictures.”

Peter smiled at him hopefully.

Reed sighed, but it was mostly for show. “You can see them," he said, waving a hand. "But don’t tell Johnny that I was the one who showed them to you.”

Peter squashed down the urge to fist pump.

Reed showed him so many beautifully embarrassing pictures of Johnny that afternoon. They even invited Ben down to laugh with them. He brought popcorn.

Not one of Peter’s most productive days at the lab, but certainly one of the most enjoyable.

Peter didn’t know which he liked best, the one where Johnny was fifteen and dressed like a total dweeb or the one where he was sleeping in a room clearly decorated entirely in Spidey memorabilia.

No, wait, it was definitely the latter. Peter made it the wallpaper on his phone, and Johnny almost had a heart attack when he saw it.

Peter laughed long and hard at the look on his face. Priceless.

* * *

The week sped by quickly. Much more quickly than Peter liked. Each day his apprehension and uncertainty grew. What if Johnny did want to make out? That would be awkward.

Peter did _not_  feel like talking about how he wasn’t ready yet again. He had to do that enough in therapy. Over and over again. 

Well, the answer was obvious. He needed a human shield. He had the perfect one in mind.

“You want me to what?” Mary Jane said. She was flipping through her closet, picking out the outfit she was going to wear for her outing with Jen. Every now and then she’d stop, pull out a dress, still on its hanger, and hold it up in front of her in the floor length mirror she’d stationed by her closet. Then she’d toss it into one of the two piles she was building—the ’maybe’ pile and the ‘hell no, maybe burn’ pile. That was what she called them, anyways.

“I want you to stick around tonight. Tell Jen you’re sick. You guys can have a girl’s night out some other time,” Peter said, waving a hand from where he was perched high up on the wall next to her closet.

Mary Jane was frowning up at him, the latest dress she’d yanked out dangling from her fingers. “But…” she said. “I want to go clubbing. Why do you want me to stick around?”

“Because. Johnny asked me to help him babysit,” Peter explained.

“I’m not seeing a connection here,” Mary Jane said. “I don’t know anything about babies, Peter. Just because I have boobs doesn’t mean I know how to take care of a baby. I really don’t, and it’s sexist to think so.”

“No, no,” Peter said, shaking his head. “That’s not it. Johnny’s taking care of Franklin. I want you to stick around for after Franklin’s asleep, so it won’t be just me and Johnny.”

“Ah,” Mary Jane said. She rolled her eyes and went back to flipping through her closet. “Now I get it.”

“So you’ll stay?” Peter said.

Mary Jane hummed noncommittally. “I dunno,” she said. “Depends. Why don’t you want to be alone with him?”

“I don’t know,” Peter said, feeling his face heat up. “It sounded like he maybe thought we were gonna…you know.”

“He knows you aren’t gonna have sex, Petey,” Mary Jane said flatly. “Are you guys even making out yet?”

“Well, no,” Peter admitted.

“Then he’s not expecting you to have sex.”

“This is Johnny. Are we sure about that? He’s been trying to get me to take my shirt off in front of him for months.”

“He’s mostly kidding about that, you know. It’s just a—“ She flicked her fingers at Peter. “—kind of flirty sexy game at this point.”

“Well, I’m not giving in.”

“That’s because you’re stubborn. Johnny knows that. And you’re probably going to take your shirt off around him eventually, unless you’re planning on having sex partially clothed. I know it’s been awhile, Pete, but that’s generally considered a little weird.”

Peter glowered at her. “That’s not the same as giving in,” he said stiffly.

“Hmm. Bet you twenty bucks Johnny brings it up the first time you have sex.”

“How would you even know? I could lie about it. It’s not like you’re going to be there.”

Mary Jane smiled up at him affectionately. “I would know, Peter, because you really can’t lie to save your life.”

“Oh, boy," Peter huffed. "Come on, I’ve been lying to people for years about my spidery friend. I can’t be that terrible.”

“Oh, you are,” she said, reaching up to pat his knee. “You’re worse. It’s really a miracle that you haven’t ever gotten caught.” She held up a dress. It was yellow with red flower designs strewn across it. “Yes or no? Does it scream daring and sexy?”

“I don't know? It’s nice, I guess?” Peter said.

Mary Jane immediately chucked into her ‘hell no’ pile.

“Hey!” Peter said. “What the hell! I said I liked it!”

“And your fashion sense is twice as bad as Johnny’s,” she replied calmly. “So it’s probably an awful dress that I should burn immediately.”

“There is no way I’m worse than Johnny. Have you not seen his cowboy boot collection? Half of them have flame designs, Red! And he’s _proud_ about that.”

“Do you want me to pull out a picture of that horrible yellow sweater you always used to wear?”

“It wasn’t _that_ ugly. And Aunt May knitted it for me. I'm telling her you said that.”

She sighed and pressed a hand to her face. “Oh, _Peter_ ,” she said pityingly.

“I think I still have it,” Peter said, just to be contrary. “Maybe I’ll wear it again.”

“Do it and I’ll tell Johnny to burn it, even if it’s while you’re wearing it. And I’ll be doing you a favor. Honestly, it’s how I figured out you were secretly brave. You’d have to be to wear something that ugly in public."

Peter’s eyes narrowed. “I’m definitely wearing it again.”

Mary Jane looked fond. “That’s what I like about you, Petey. You’re so stubborn. It’s probably why you win so many fights against supervillains. You’re just more stubborn than they are.”

One corner of Peter’s mouth pulled upwards. “Sums up my entire career as a superhero, really. Maybe I should make it my motto.” He puffed himself up, put his hands on his hips, and said, in his best Captain America voice, “’Give up now, villains, because I’ll outstubborn you to death.’”

Mary Jane burst out laughing, and Peter soon joined her.

“So are you gonna hang with me on Friday, then?” Peter asked once they settled down. He was still smiling at her.

Mary Jane glanced over at him, then up at the ceiling, and sighed. “Fine,” she said. “Fine. I will be your Johnny shield. Even though it’s pointless, because he’s so not going to try anything! Not _really_ , anyways.”

Peter leaned down and dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “You’re the best,” he said, smiling.

“Yeah, you’d better be grateful,” Mary Jane grumbled as Peter dropped down off of the wall and fled before she could change her mind.

* * *

Once her door was shut and Peter’s footsteps out of earshot, Mary Jane sagged forward and buried her face in the dresses that were hanging in her closet.

This was going to be a disaster. It was her first sort-of date with Jen, and now she was going to have to duck out early to come babysit Peter, who was helping Johnny babysit his nephew.

Ugh.

Maybe she could bring Jen with her. She was friends with Johnny too, after all.

But then Peter would see her and Jen together, and Mary Jane was worried. Peter was oblivious as hell most of the time, but eventually even he was going to realize that she had feelings for Jen.

And that would lead to other conclusions at which Mary Jane absolutely never wanted him to arrive, because if he did, all hell would break loose.

She’d been dreading it for months.

It was mostly why she’d been playing hard-to-get with Jen….she wasn’t certain she could commit to a relationship that might cost her the man who was her very best friend.

She shook her head. It was a shame. She liked Jen, so very, very much.

Jen was smart, beautiful, fun, and she understood Mary Jane in a way few people ever did. Saw right past the shallow party girl facade.

But just…oh, god. Peter could never know. Peter could never even suspect. No matter what.

* * *

Mary Jane failed to find a single dress that was nice enough, so she wound up dragging Johnny and Peter to the mall with her to help her pick a new one.

Peter found it very frustrating, because their 'help' largely consisted of telling her which dresses they liked so that she could toss them.

Johnny was deeply offended. Just to prove he had excellent taste, he went out and bought himself seven new outfits and three new pairs of shoes.

Mary Jane thought they were all hideous, and Peter spent the rest of the day with his head in his hands listening to them argue over fashion. It was terrible.

* * *

Johnny spent most of the week worrying about the responsibility that had been thrust upon him. He wasn’t very accustomed to people expecting him to be in any way responsible. Quite the contrary. Everyone expected him to take simple tasks and somehow end up with a disaster on his hands.

That was, admittedly, how his life tended to go, although he would argue that it was through no fault of his own.

Sue was entrusting him with the care of her only son, and that made Johnny feel something akin to panic every time he looked at Franklin and thought about how tiny and helpless he was.

He was glad he’d roped Peter into helping. Peter was mostly pretty sensible. He wouldn’t let Johnny do anything stupid.

Johnny would never forgive himself if something happened to his nephew—his chubby, smiling, pink-cheeked, and very, very tiny nephew with an infectious little laugh—under his watch.

* * *

The night Johnny and Peter were supposed to babysit, Sue ran through her litany of everything they both had to remember for what had to be the twelfth time that day.

They were standing in the living room, while Franklin puttered around his play area.

Sue was wearing an elegant, strapless blue dress that matched her eyes perfectly and a beautiful diamond necklace, bracelets, and earrings Reed had given her last year to make amends after they’d gotten back together.

“Remember to check the bottles before you give them to him to make sure they’re not too hot,” she finished. “And his bedtime is at nine exactly. Do not let him stay up later than nine. And don’t give him candy no matter how much he cries. It’ll just make him hyper, and you don’t want a hyper one-year-old on your hands, believe me.”

“We know,” Johnny and Peter chorused.

“And for god’s sake, do not—”

“Blow anything up?” Johnny supplied. “Yep, we know. Nothing will blow up, I promise.”

Sue shoved the packet of white papers she’d been holding at him. “Well, in case anything does happen, I made you this.”

Johnny peered down at it. He flipped through a few pages and decided it was utterly ridiculous. “‘In case of alien invasion’? Sue, aliens are not going to invade.”

“Why not?” Peter said. “They invade like every other Wednesday. In fact, they invaded last Wednesday. You guys were gone for hours, and the electricity gave out, and it was super boring."

“That doesn’t count,” Johnny scoffed. “Those were just Skrulls, and Skrulls are lame. Reed made them into cows once.”

“Reed what?” Peter said, alarmed. “What do you mean he made them into cows? How does he make people into cows?”

Sue had a hand pressed to her face. “He means Reed let some shape-shifting Skrulls stay on the planet, but he told them they had to be cows the rest of their lives.”

Peter looked shocked. “Cows? That’s cold. How did he know no one was gonna kill and eat them?”

“He didn’t,” Johnny said. “That’s why you don’t mess with Reed.”

“You messed with him a few days ago,” Peter pointed out. “I saw you.”

“Well, he had it coming,” Johnny huffed. “Showing you embarrassing pictures of me? That was _not_ cool.”

“Jonathan Storm, what did you do to Reed?” Sue snapped, arms crossed, a dangerous edge to her voice. “Is this why he wouldn’t take his shirt off around me for three days?”

Johnny chortled. “No?”

It totally was.

Sue’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t believe you, little brother. You’re an awful liar. I’m asking Reed.”

“He won’t tell you anything either,” Johnny said. “It’s between us, and it’s settled now.”

Sue made an exasperated noise. “Just promise me no pranks while Franklin’s around, okay? Those things can get messy. Just for one night, bro, that’s all I’m asking.”

“Don’t worry, Sue,” Johnny reassured her. “I won’t play pranks on anybody. Franklin’s safety is my top priority. You know I’d never do anything to put Franklin in danger. He’s my nephew.”

Sue narrowed her eyes at him. “Well,” she said at last. “All right then.”

That wasn’t entirely true. Johnny was planning on playing one hell of a prank on Ben once Franklin was asleep. With Peter’s help, it was gonna be beautiful.

* * *

Johnny and Peter waved goodbye to Reed and Sue while they got on the elevator and waited for the doors to close.

“Don’t worry,” Johnny told Peter, as soon as they were gone. “This is gonna be easy as pie.”

Just then, the loud and wailing screams of an unhappy one-year-old came crashing through from the living room.

Peter gave Johnny a look. “You were saying?”

“Well,” Johnny said to save face, “how hard can getting a baby to stop crying really be?”

* * *

Franklin kept asking for his mommy and daddy, and only shrieked louder when Johnny said they were coming back later.

They tried showing him all of his favorite toys, put on his favorite movie—he was going through a _Winnie the Pooh_ phase—but to no avail. Franklin wouldn’t stop crying.

Peter got so fed up with the crying he suggested they should maybe call Sue, but Johnny was having none of it.

She rarely ever got a day off from parenting, and it was rarer still for her to successfully tear Reed away from his lab. There was no way he was going to be responsible for ruining her date.

“He has to get tired of crying sooner or later, right?” he said, but he didn’t sound too convinced.

* * *

When they finally managed to quiet him down, they both breathed a sigh of relief.

“How long’s it been?” Peter said. “Like three hours, right? It has to almost be bedtime for him, right?”

Johnny checked his phone and pursed his lips.

Peter didn’t like the look on his face. “Why are you making that face? How long has it been?” He checked his phone too. It read six pm. It had only been one hour since Sue and Reed had left for their night out. “You have _got_ to be kidding me.”

“Look,” Johnny said. “He’s not crying now. How much trouble can a one-year-old be? We just have to, like, put toys near him and make sure he doesn’t eat anything off of the floor and we’ll be fine, right?”

“Uh-huh,” Peter said. “Sure.”

* * *

By seven pm, the house was a mess. Toys and baby food everywhere. Johnny wasn’t sure how it’d happened. In increments, he supposed, until one moment he’d looked around and the house was in tatters.

There was baby food smeared on the wall of the kitchen where Franklin had thrown his plate while he wailed from his high chair because he’d wanted apricot and gotten apple, and Franklin’s favorite animal crackers were littered all over the floor in places Johnny was baffled by.

One of them somehow fell from the ceiling and landed right on Johnny’s face. How had that even _happened_?

Johnny had even found some FF action figures in one of Reed’s loafers, along with what looked like a napkin. When he asked Franklin why’d he’d done it, Franklin had looked up at him with huge blue eyes and said, “Beh.”

It took Johnny a second to remember that it was Franklin’s way of saying ‘bed.’

Johnny had to smother a laugh when he figured it out. The napkin was a blanket, and Reed’s shoes were beds now, or at least they were in Franklin’s mind. “Do you want me to put them back in their—uh, bed?”

Franklin nodded his little head solemnly and said, “Yes.”

Johnny obliged.

He hoped to god he was there when Reed put on his loafers later.

* * *

Mary Jane was sitting in a hopelessly loud nightclub, picking idly at the tabletop, and nodding along to the story Jen was telling her about the latest shenanigans that had taken place at the office at which she had recently been employed.

Her mind, however, was occupied with worries of how Jen would react to their maybe sort-of a date being cut abruptly short.

Mary Jane had not yet had the courage to tell her. She knew that once the words passed her lips, it would put a damper on the entire evening.

She liked seeing Jen’s dazzling smile and hated to do anything that might make it flicker and fade.

So it took her a few moments to realize that Jen had been calling her name repeatedly.

Her eyes widened, and she straightened, her mind careening back to the present. “Sorry!” she said, and plastered a giddy smile on her own face, in the hopes that Jen would reciprocate. “What do you say we hit the dance floor, hot stuff?"

Jen didn’t roll her eyes, but she looked precisely as though she wanted to. Mary Jane wasn’t quite sure how she managed to accomplish that. “Oh, god, Mary Jane, don’t do that,” she said. “Not with me.”

Mary Jane wasn’t sure what she was talking about. “Do what?” she asked.

“Shut me out like that,” Jen said, flinging a hand at Mary Jane. “Putting on the ditzy party girl act. We both know there’s more to you than that.”

Mary Jane’s mind tripped back into a memory of lying on the roof of her battered old apartment building, a blanket spread out beneath her, the night sky stretched out endlessly above her, Jen’s warm hand in her own, secrets whispered, lives shared.

Jen had nearly kissed her that night, but Mary Jane had flinched back. She wasn’t sure why.

Mary Jane hadn’t told her every shameful secret she’d buried down deep within herself, but she’d imparted enough bits and pieces for Jen—clever, clever Jen—to have grasped the broad shape of Mary Jane’s life: an abusive father, a weak-willed mother who had somehow dredged up the courage to leave him, a penniless existence dependent on the charity of family and strangers, a resentful sister, an unshakeable desire to climb out of the gutter into which she had been born.

In return, Mary Jane had learned of the death of a mother, a loving father, an absent but doting cousin, a rain of bullets, a blood transfusion that changed the fabric of Jen’s life irrevocably.

For the better, Jen had told her, smiling up at the swirling expanse of clouds and stars. An infinite number of possibilities had opened up to her that day. A life of extraordinary adventures and joyous new freedoms and friendships that had been tested in fire and blood.

Jen would not surrender her powers or the life they had given her for anything. Jen would not return to being mousy Jennifer Walters for anything, she’d said, lips curling in disdain.

But she knew too well what it was to hide away one’s true nature—out of shame, out of fear, out of loathing—and her keen eyes were far too adept to miss the signs that Mary Jane was doing the same.

“I’m not doing that!” Mary Jane lied. “This is just me.”

How easy it was, at times, to slip on a mask and forget that another Mary Jane—the true Mary Jane—existed. The happy-go-lucky party girl, the self she presented to most of the world, was what she longed desperately to be—careening through life without a care in the world, without a lifetime of terror, hardship, and tragedy weighing her down.

Her true self emerged only in the company of those she trusted absolutely—Peter above all, but once there had been Harry and Gwen—beautiful, funny Gwen, the sight of whom had made Mary Jane’s heart sing—too. And now Johnny and Jen had been added to that list.

Jen gave her a look that said very plainly that she was no one’s fool.

Mary Jane relented. “I’m sorry,” she said, lowering her eyes, shedding in a split second the sparkle and dazzle of her party self, leaving behind only Mary Jane, bare and unadorned. “It’s just habit.”

Jen’s eyes softened. “It’s okay,” she said, reaching out and twining her fingers through Mary Jane’s. Mary Jane’s heart fluttered. “I just like the real you more.”

Mary Jane looked at her hand, holding Jen’s tightly, and nodded. “I have a complicated relationship with myself,” she explained. “It’s not about you.”

Jen nodded. “I get you, believe me. Jennifer Walters is a little bit of a pushover. I like this me more.”

That wasn’t why Mary Jane was uncomfortable with her other self. Her real self. She would simply hear, ringing in her ears, every terrible thing her father had ever said to her. She was worthless, spineless, talentless, boring. A waste of breath and life.

Having an abusive father was bad enough, she supposed, but having one who was a failed writer, who was skilled at observing and understanding what made everyone around him tick, who could hone in on the worst fears and self-doubts of his wife and his budding teenage daughters and trot them out in his violent rants, unmake them with a meager handful of words, was far, far worse.

Mary Jane had inherited her father’s ability to understand others, but she was putting her talents to good use on stage, rather than frittering them away on violence and terror in the privacy of a shattered home.

Mary Jane gave Jen a tight-lipped smile. “Yeah,” she said. “Same here.”

Jen’s eyes were keen and observant. Mary Jane held her gaze, daring her to say something, to call her on her lie.

Jen shifted her eyes away and said nothing.

Mary Jane sat and held Jen’s hand in silence, trying to work up the courage to tell Jen.

“I’m going to have to leave early,” she blurted out.

Jen’s eyes found her again, and this time there was hurt and surprise in their depths. “Is it because of something I said?”

“No!” Mary Jane said quickly. “No. Peter’s having Johnny drama again. He asked me to help.”

Jen rolled her eyes. “So of course you drop everything to help him.”

Mary Jane’s brow furrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked indignantly.

“Are you in love with him?” Jen said, cutting right to the heart of the matter. That was why Mary Jane liked her. She didn’t obfuscate. Directly to the truth, every time. “Because I’ve been trying to figure out why you go so far out of your way to help him, and that’s the only reason I can think of. And if you are, just, please, tell me now, because I have way too much respect for myself to fall for a girl who’s hung up on a guy who is clearly in love with someone else.”

Mary Jane was, at first, astonished, but that quickly gave way to amusement. She laughed at the absurdity of it all.

“I am not in love with Peter Parker,” she said, cackling at the thought. “Believe me. I love him like a brother, but I’m not _in_ love with him.”

“Then why do you help him like this?” Jen pressed. That was her cross-examination voice, wasn’t it?

“Because he’s my friend?” Mary Jane said. “A real friend. The kind who’ll be there for you through thick and thin.” She looked down at her drink. “I don’t have many of those.”

She wasn’t pitying herself, she told herself.

Jen considered accepting that as a valid answer, but she seemed to reject it. “No,” she said. “There’s more to this than that. I can feel it.”

Mary Jane was beginning to understand why Jen was such a successful lawyer. She could smell lies, draw out truths the bearer wished to keep hidden.

“There’s really not.”

There really was, but Mary Jane did not particularly feel like delving into that mine field, or like telling secrets she had never breathed to another living soul. Secrets Peter could never know.

Jen looked at her.

Mary Jane held her gaze as long as she could, but eventually looked away. “Fine,” she said, mouth twisting. “Fine. There maybe is more to it, but it’s complicated and long and sad, and I don’t want to talk about it tonight.”

Her throat felt tight. She didn’t want to talk about it. She couldn’t. She’d thought she was finally over it, the past soundly in the past, but this conversation was bringing it all back, as clear and fresh and sharp as if it had happened merely yesterday.

Into her consciousness blossomed the image of blonde hair shining and shimmering in the sunlight, blue eyes dancing beneath them, pink lips curved in a smile Mary Jane had dreamt and dreamt of kissing, though she never had in life. And never would.

She shoved the memory, the dream, it was hard to tell anymore, down, down, down, back into the grave to which it belonged, and found that Jen’s keen eyes had been watching her intently.

“I’m really not in love with Peter,” Mary Jane repeated. “Not at all.”

Jen kept looking at her as though she was expecting her to say more.

“All right. I _was_ in love with someone,” Mary Jane admitted. “Not Peter. This was—it was awhile ago. But…that isn’t—it never was, really—an option. I spent a long time denying it to myself, but, well. It's not possible, and it never happened. My feelings weren't reciprocated, I never said anything, and I don't know if the person ever even knew about it. So you have nothing to worry about. There’s no competition. At all. There never really was.”

Jen studied her. “All right. I’ll believe you.”

It sounded provisional. As though she was saying it was a courtesy she was extending in the moment, and no more.

“Those two need to get over themselves and just start dating,” Jen said conversationally, picking the olive out of her martini glass.

Mary Jane smiled, relieved. That meant the interrogation was over. “I know. But it’s complicated.” She squeezed Jen’s hand. “You’re not mad?”

Jen thought about it and then shrugged. “You’ll tell me when you’re ready to,” she said.

“Yes,” Mary Jane said, and it was half a promise. “But not tonight.”

“Look,” Jen said, “why don’t I come with you? We can have a mini party. Torchy won’t mind, and if he does he can take it up with me.”

Mary Jane looked at her. She absolutely could not let this happen. “Do you want to go because you want to watch me and Peter together? Because I told you, I really don’t have that sort of feelings for him.”

It was more of a meeting of two like-minded souls. In Peter she had found someone who was as damaged as she, someone who was as plagued by guilt and doubt and self-recriminations. She understood the darkness that lingered inside of Peter, because it was the same one that occupied the darkest corners of her soul as well.

“No,” Jen said. “I just want to spend time with you.”

Mary Jane believed her, and knew that there was no way to get out of letting Jen accompany her.

“Well,” Mary Jane said. “I guess I can’t say no to that!”

Dammit.

They left together twenty minutes before Mary Jane had promised Peter to be back at the Baxter Building.

Mary Jane could just feel it. Something disastrous was going to happen tonight. Was this what it felt like to have Spidey sense? To always know when disaster approached?

Mary Jane found that she didn’t envy Peter at all.

* * *

The evening hadn’t been going too badly, Johnny thought. The Baxter Building was still standing. He was going to consider that a victory.

Everything inside of the Baxter Building, or at least the areas Franklin had been near, were a bit of a lost cause.

Toddlers, Johnny decided, were definite menaces. Possibly more so than many supervillains he had encountered. Toddlers had a talent for destruction and mayhem.

He thought this as he contemplated the video game console Franklin had probably ruined completely. Johnny was going to ask Reed if there was anything to be done, but he somehow suspected that removing peanut butter from its insides was difficult at best.

Franklin was very, very lucky that Johnny completely adored him. If anyone else had been guilty of so much as touching his video games without his permission, they would soon after have found select parts of themselves on fire.

He heard footsteps behind him and turned to find that Peter was walking up to him, Franklin slung, belly down and giggling, over one of Peter's shoulders.

Peter looked down at Johnny’s ruined video game console and then up at the dismay on Johnny’s face.

He started to laugh.

“Shut up, jackass,” Johnny grumbled.

Franklin kicked his tiny legs. “Vroom vroom,” he said, as soon as he heard Johnny’s voice.

That meant he wanted to play cars. Well, Johnny was good at that.

Of course, this was the seventeenth time he’d played cars with Franklin this evening, so he was getting a bit tired of it.

Johnny sighed and held out his hands. “Gimme my nephew, jerk.”

Peter handed a squirming Franklin over to Johnny.

Franklin’s little fist smacked Johnny in the eye. Johnny cursed under his breath, pressed a hand to his eye, and hoped it wouldn’t swell.

Peter clutched at his sides and howled with laughter.

Johnny scowled down at him.

There were times when he hated Peter as passionately as he loved him. Mostly he would feel both emotions simultaneously, warring away inside of him disconcertingly.

“I’m going to get his car toy,” Johnny said. "Also you're a jerk."

He walked away with as much dignity as he could.

* * *

When Johnny came back, pushing his nephew, who was happily honking away at his little horn, in his little toy car, he was greeted by the unexpected sight of Mary Jane and Jen. He stopped dead in his tracks and looked at Peter questioningly.

Peter didn’t seem surprised they were there. “Hey,” he said brightly, but it was a noticeably false brightness, “Look, how awesome! Jen and MJ decided to hang out with us instead of going clubbing. How awesome and totally not planned!”

Johnny looked at Peter’s false smile, Jen’s wry grin, the barely disguised and somewhat mystifying tension in Mary Jane’s smile.

“We need to talk,” he told Peter.

Peter’s smile vanished.

He handed the car and his nephew to Mary Jane. “Push him around for me, would you? He likes it when you make car noises.”

That was a lie, but it could be funny.

Mary Jane stared at it trepidatiously. She held up her hands, palms facing out. “I’m not good with kids,” she said.

Jen took the handle. “I’ll do it.”

“Thanks,” Johnny said. He jerked his head towards the kitchen. “Follow me,” he told Peter, and Peter did.

Johnny crossed his arms, leaned back against the kitchen counter, and raised an eyebrow at Peter.

Peter stood in the middle of the kitchen, hands shoved in his pockets, eyes everywhere but on Johnny.

“Lucy,” Johnny said in his best Ricky Ricardo impression. “You’ve got some ‘splaining to do.”

“It was a surprise,” Peter said to the ceiling. “I didn’t know they were coming.”

It was obviously a lie, and they both knew it.

“Do you not want to hang out with me, is that it?” Johnny tried. “I mean, I thought we were having fun!”

“I spent twenty minutes trying to get sticky stuff out of my hair,” Peter said unhappily, this time to the sink. “I don’t even know how it got there or what it was.”

“Baby food,” Johnny said. “You had some on your hand and then your hand went in your hair.”

Peter’s eyes found Johnny, but they were filled with a scowl. “You mean you noticed and you didn’t say anything?”

Johnny gave Peter a look. “Did you forget who you’re talking to,” it said, “and the nature of our relationship? We mess with each other. It’s what we do.”

“Right,” Peter said, lowering his gaze to the floor.

“Do you want to tell me why you called them?”

“I didn’t.”

It didn’t sound like a lie this time. Johnny considered how that could be possible.

“Did you and Mary Jane set this up beforehand?” he tried.

Peter squinted at the fridge.

So that was it.

“Why the hell did you do that, Peter? We were gonna have fun, just you and me! Like the good old days. I had a prank on Ben all set up. Even Reed was going to suffer.”

“Oh,” Peter said, surprised. “Was that what you meant when you said we were gonna get in trouble?”

“Yes!” Johnny huffed, throwing up his hands. “What did you think I meant?”

Peter’s cheeks took on a decidedly pink hue, his eyes seemed determined never to leave their careful examination of the floor.

Johnny arrived at certain unexpected conclusions. “Oh,” he said. “Did you think I wanted to—Pete, why would you even think that?”

“You keep trying to get me to kiss you!” Peter said defensively. “Why wouldn’t I think that’s what you meant?”

“I’m just flirting!” Johnny said, riled up. “It’s a game, it isn’t serious, you—you potato! And, Pete, the game is to get _you_ to kiss _me_. When have _I_ ever tried to kiss _you_? Do you really think I would ever try to do anything you didn’t want?” He deflated. “Pete, buddy, you told me to wait and I’ve been waiting. For months. You thought my patience had finally run out tonight?”

“I don’t know!” Peter shouted. “I don’t know, okay? We were gonna be alone, and I thought you might want to—” He shook a hand at Johnny. “You know!”

“Well, I don’t. I mean, if you wanted to I wouldn’t say no, but I wasn’t planning on it. I planned a prank. That was the extent of my planning.”

“Well,” Peter said, disgruntled. “I know that _now_.”

“Yeah,” Johnny said. “But now we’re stuck with Jen and MJ. And we probably ruined their, uh, girls’ night out. For no reason.”

“Yeah,” Peter admitted. He was chewing on his lower lip. “Okay, I feel bad about that.”

Johnny shook his head, sighed, and stared up at the ceiling.

Peter could be so stupid sometimes.

Johnny turned and pulled a bag of chips out of one of the cupboards. “Put those in a bowl,” he told Peter. “And bring sodas. I’m gonna go check on Frankie.”

* * *

Johnny found Mary Jane surveying the wreckage of the living room.

“Sue is going to kill you,” she said cheerily by way of greeting.

“I know,” Johnny sighed.

He could hear Franklin beeping his car horn merrily off somewhere by the den. He imagined Jen was with him.

Mary Jane examined his face carefully. “Things between you and Peter okay?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Johnny said. “He was just being an idiot. Like usual.”

Mary Jane snickered. “I hear you,” she said, but it wasn’t harsh it all. Instead, it was tinged with fondness and affection. “He can be a real moron sometimes,” she added, shaking her head and smiling.

“I heard that,” Peter said sourly, precariously balancing chips, soda, and cups in his hands. “This wasn’t my fault.”

Mary Jane craned her neck over to look at Peter in the doorway. “This,” she said cheerfully, “is absolutely your fault.”

“We can have fun and hang out,” Peter said as he set his mess down on the already messy coffee table. “What’s the big deal?”

Johnny shot Mary Jane a look. The depths of Peter’s obliviousness were truly astonishing.

It was a big deal, of course, because Johnny was fairly certain that Mary Jane and Jen had been on a date, something Peter had yet to notice, and Mary Jane seemed to want to keep hidden.

Well, Johnny wasn’t going to out her if she didn’t want to be.

“No big deal,” Mary Jane said, shedding her coat and squinting at the couch, looking for a clean spot to sit in. “Has any peeing, pooping, or vomiting happened on this couch?"

“Oh, yeah,” Johnny said, winking at Peter. “Frankie did all of that.”

"Yep," Peter confirmed. "All of it."

Mary Jane made a face. “Ew,” she said. “Babies are gross. Too many bodily fluids.”

“They are cute, though,” Peter said.

Mary Jane signaled her indifference to their cuteness with a shrug and sat gingerly down on the armrest.

Johnny tried not to laugh. The couch was, despite their ribbing, mostly clean and dry, the armrest, which Franklin had decorated with finger paints before Johnny could stop him, was decidedly not.

So much for Mary Jane’s new dress.

He and Peter were going to have to make a run for it as soon as she realized what had happened. They weren’t really at fault, but she’d definitely blame them.

It would all be resolved when Johnny would offer to buy her a new and prettier dress. That normally worked as an apology.

Johnny wished Peter was that easy to appease, but walking the narrow tightrope of what was allowed by Peter’s pride and stubbornness was a difficult feat.

Jen came barreling into the living room, pushing Franklin ahead of her. He was laughing his little head off.

Hah. Obsessed with high velocities, just like his uncle. He and Frankie were gonna get along fine once he grew up.

Of course, he was still a very tiny and capricious child.

Jen came to a halt in front of the coffee table. “Hey,” she said. “And I’m done. Torchy, take your nephew.”

Johnny sighed and got to his feet. Time for another half hour of carting Franklin around. Oh, joy.

He loved his nephew, though, and this made his nephew happy, for some strange reason, so here he went.

* * *

When it got close to Franklin’s bedtime, Johnny was concerned to note that Franklin wasn’t slowing down at all.

Shouldn’t he be getting sleepy?

Johnny took Franklin out of his little car, sat on the sofa, settled him on his lap, and started to read his favorite book—the one about the crayon and the little boy who could create anything he dreamed about with the help of a purple crayon—in the hopes that it would settle him down enough to go to sleep.

He could hear Peter, Mary Jane, and Jen howling with laughter in the kitchen, and wished he was there with him. Them.

Franklin was chewing on the already chewed on edges of the book.

“Frankie,” Johnny said. “Gross. Stop that.”

He gingerly pulled the book away from Franklin.

Franklin looked up, lower lip trembling like he was about to start crying again. Oh, god. Anything but the crying.

Johnny started pointing at the very brightly colored pictures in the book and oohing in a desperate attempt to distract him, and it worked.

* * *

The moment when it happened wasn’t grand, it wasn’t sweeping, it wasn’t even particularly romantic.

It was a small, ordinary moment, the sort that normally ticked by unmarked and unremembered.

It would be burned into Peter’s memory forever.

It happened like this: Peter walked out of the kitchen an ungainly sight, balancing a bowl full of popcorn on one arm and three popsicles and a jar of Cheetos in the other.

Johnny was in the living room, his tiny, eager, earnest little nephew sprawled out across his lap. Franklin’s small face was comically serious because of how completely engrossed he was in the story Johnny was reading to him.

The picture uncle and nephew formed together was unbearably sweet.

Peter saw it all in that moment—his whole life, stretching out in front of him. The life he could have with Johnny. Everything he'd kept himself from seeing before. He'd considered already the possibility of adventure, but now he was flooded with thoughts of marriage, children of their own. Growing old with Johnny by his side. A lifetime of jokes, friendship, adventures. A life filled with love and hope. Never alone, no matter where he was, because Johnny was always his.

Peter wanted it so badly he ached with it. He wanted it more than he had wanted anything since Gwen had plummeted off a wind-swept bridge, taking all of his dreams for the future with her.

Peter’s feet stopped moving, his breath caught in his throat, his heart stuttered in its steady beating.

He wished and wished that he’d had the foresight to bring his camera with him, so he could remember this moment, always.

He found himself wishing that very often when he was near Johnny, not that it was very surprising, given how unreasonably and unfairly beautiful Johnny was. If Johnny’s beauty had been less, perhaps none of this mess would ever have happened, Peter tried to convince himself sometimes.

He knew it wasn’t true. It wasn’t Johnny’s beauty that Peter found appealing.

That was, quite honestly, rather far down on the list of the things Peter liked most about Johnny. The list included things like: the way the corner of his eyes crinkled when he smiled, the way he laughed, loud and brazen and joyous, in a way Peter wished he still could, the weight and warmth of the heavy arm he threw across Peter’s shoulders, grounding him, making Peter feel the rarest of all feelings—a sense of belonging.

Peter loved the way his hair shone like spun gold in the sunlight, he loved Johnny’s generosity, his loyalty, his compassion, his bravery.

He loved that Johnny was a hero in costume and out, and he loved that Johnny hardly seemed to notice, didn’t even suspect, that the bravery with which he faced every moment of his life was in any way out of the ordinary. That most people wouldn’t dive head first into danger if they knew others were in trouble.

Johnny shone brightly in Peter’s mind’s eye for reasons that had nothing to do with his powers. It was the uncorrupted brightness of his soul, pouring out of him, that Peter found unbearably beautiful.

There were moments when Peter couldn’t bring himself to look at Johnny. Moments when he felt that looking at Johnny too directly was somewhat like staring at the sun, only infinitely more dangerous.

The sight of Johnny would make something ineffable inside of Peter writhe, steal all of the air from his lungs, set the ground beneath his feet spinning.

In those moments, Peter would make himself look away, because the temptation to do something alleviate his agony would become overwhelming.

The worst part of it all was that he knew that Johnny would let him take and take whatever he wanted. Knew that Johnny was longing to let him, perhaps as fiercely as Peter was.

But he couldn't let himself, he'd remind himself. It wasn't fair to Johnny.

But then Peter’s lips would tingle with the memory of the stolen kisses they’d shared, and he'd be less certain of the wisdom of his hesitance.

A set of footsteps drew nearer, coming from somewhere behind him, which was soon accompanied by Mary Jane’s wry chuckles.

“Tiger,” she said warmly, “if you don’t want people to know about you and Johnny, you might want to stop looking at him like that.”

“Why?” Peter asked. He felt dizzy. “How am I looking at him?”

“Like you’re head over heels in love with him,” Mary Jane replied, and pushed past him into the living room.

 _Oh,_ Peter thought faintly. _Yes. That’s what this feeling is._ _I’m in love with Johnny._

The words felt… _right_ , somehow. Familiar. They didn’t quite feel like a revelation. They felt more akin to something he had known for a very, _very_ long time, but had never quite found a way to express. Or perhaps he had simply never allowed himself to put what he felt into words, because he hadn’t been ready to admit it to himself.

 _I have feelings for Johnny_ , was what he’d told himself, over and over again throughout the last few months. _It isn’t love. Nothing as serious as that._

He couldn’t pinpoint at which precise moment he had teetered off the precipice and fallen into love with Johnny. It had simply happened.

Had Peter already been in love with Johnny when he woke this morning? Peter didn’t know. He supposed it was entirely possible that he could have been.

Peter took a moment to examine the love he felt, pore over it, seek futilely to understand it.

He held it up before his eyes, turned it this way and that, and marveled at it. How was it possible to feel this way again? It shouldn’t be possible. Peter had firmly believed that his heart had shriveled up and followed Gwen into her lonely grave. 

And yet, here it was. Beating again for Johnny. It was something of a miracle.

He discovered, to his great amazement, that his love shone as brightly and as steadily as one of the stars in the heavens. He felt as though it didn’t belong there, nestled inside of him, a flicker of light amid all of the darkness.

But then again, he supposed that was where stars belonged. In the darkness.

He was in love with Johnny Storm.

It seemed now that it had always been inevitable. This was where his relationship with Johnny was always going to end up, even though he had spent so much of its beginning pointlessly dragging his heels.

But what of his duty to Gwen? Had he done right by her? Was it finally, at long last, all right to move on?

Peter didn’t know the answer to any of those questions.

Everything was suddenly so easy...and a thousand times more complicated.


End file.
